Know When to Fold 'Em (Closed for Obuzeti)

[Obuzeti]

"The Gun Runners don't tell me that much, but I know the NCR has reestablished satellite communications and can repair and maintain power armor," Jonah says with a shrug. "Their trick is to strip out the servos so that it goes unpowered, but requires a hell of a lot less maintenance in the long run. Ranger armor is also stupidly tough, but I don't know what the deal with it is. Black armor is impossible to lay hands on."

His lips turn downward. "But nothing new. Not really. Just grabbing on what's already been done."

The dog light seems right up Kara's alley, he admits. "You could use that for whenever we pick the dog pack up again," Jonah points out. "Wherever you leave them, anyways."

Her suggestion purses his lips, though.

"There's not much danger to me going," Jonah says, slow. "It's you that'd I'd worry about, over in Legion land. Everyone in the Mojave knows the score with me, more or less, but there ain't a woman alive the Legion think is worth shit. If I go for it, I'd be more comfortable if you hung out at the Vault or something, meanwhile."

He doesn't think she'll go for it, and to be honest, isn't really enchanted with the possibility of going to see Caesar anyways. If the Old Man wanted him dead, he could probably arrange it with whatever's left of Inculta's forces, though there'd be a mountain of bodies by the end of it. That said, Moray's ability to make the trade unappealing depends a lot on having free ground to work with. In the Fort proper, it'll be a short fucking fight he manages to put up.

Jonah's lips purse. He's got a satchel with some Mini-Nukes stashed by the quarry. Might be worth going to pick them up so as to make one of Kara's bluffs.

Kara's staring off into space again, her pretend disinterest the surest sign of a bluff, and he looks at her for a second before sidling over a step until his shoulder brushes hers. It's different from normal, somehow. There's an itch in his brain that makes him think it can't be soothed over with a hug or a soft word. The snag is bigger than that. It's making Kara stop and think, and somehow he wants to let her think her way through before he comes up trying to change her mind already. Whatever it'll be anyways. He's fumbling in the dark, here, on the right option.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Sensible. The worst that could happen to him is they kill him. Her though…

To walk into the jaws…

Kara shakes it off before she can think about it. Really-the worst that could happen to her is they kill him, too. She’s not sitting at home tinkering while he dies on a fucking cross. He’s big and he’s plenty capable, but was he lucky?

Not as lucky as she was. She’s not sure anybody was as lucky as she was.

So either they both go so her luck's with him, or neither of them go.

“We try to leave now, might be intercepted, might be followed.” Kara returns, also slow. She doesn’t address the question of staying home or going with directly-she just leans into him a little. “We go, and we find out what he wants you for. Maybe makes leaving easier, if he thinks you’re with him, or at least, not against him.”

Kara runs her fingers over the edge of the dog sign, and she slides a little into bullshit mode, justifying things that don’t really need justifying, not to him.

“Like I said, we don’t owe anybody anything-and like YOU said, we’re not anybody’s pawns…but, you know, if we happen to run into Benny, or the skirts have the chip and don’t realize what it’s for-well. Wouldn’t be the end of the world, doing that one, small favor for House. Then he won’t have reason to follow us, either. Smooth sailing outta here.”

She glances up and over at him.

“Cause it’s nothing we need, tangling up in some war.” Nope, has nothing to do with them. They’re getting out while the going’s good!

 

[Obuzeti]

Jonah shakes his head after a moment. "Once Caesar thinks he can give me orders, he'll never give me up," he says eventually. "People aren't people to him. Just units of measure. But if that's how it's going to be, best get the measure of what I'm dealing with, so I know where to hit when it's time to hurt him."

He understands this - there are people whose souls are poisoned, who have diminished the world in their own eyes. Who see nothing greater than them, none their equal, none of worth. Their power is not in anger and hatred but the absence of it, the knife that comes without passion, because existence itself is a gift to everyone around them, and it costs them nothing to revoke it.

For Jonah - even for Moray - that viewpoint is anathema. Murderer he might be, killer, but he knows the weight of what he takes. Caesar grants not even the right of being human to his allies and his enemies alike.

But these men have disciples. They are lonely, in the end. They are the chosen one, but why can there not be the chosen few? Why should they be doomed to a life with no one to understand their brilliance?

Caesar extends his hand. He invites Jonah to sit at his feet and learn.

Moray's teeth bare, abruptly, and his hackles stand up at the thought - but Kara is against his shoulder, at his side, and the hate coils up again within him. The enemy is not here. The foe is not yet in their hands.

No. They need to go. Caesar will lay his hands upon Moray, and Moray will lay his hands upon Caesar, and there Caesar will once again and finally know the notion of terror.

Moray coils back inside, and Jonah glances down at Kara as his breath evens out.

"No," Jonah says. "I've never been a fan of war."

How stupid it is to tell your enemy that you're coming.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Kara’s fingers catch at his wrist and she turns into him, the silly signs discarded for now as she loosely wraps her other arm around his middle. “I know you don’t like to pretend.” The courier says softly, the pair chest to chest and her head tipped back to look at him.

“We don’t gotta go. If you don’t think you can suffer him, not even for a moment-then we definitely shouldn’t.” Kara’s free hand smooths over the front of his fatigues, eyes briefly following her fingers. For all his skill and muscle, killing Caesar in a straight fight in the middle of all his men-it’d be suicide. And then she’d be alone, in very, very hostile territory.

Blue eyes flick back up to his face, the slightest bits of anxiety tightening her eyes and mouth before she ducks her head and holds him close.

“Because my best hope, you throw down like that, is being lucky enough to die with you. Got me?” It’s not the thought of death that has Kara wary-he’s seen her laugh in the face of it more than once. No, the former raider’s afraid of subjugation, of the things no one could steal being warped, broken, ruptured. She was afraid of men like Vulpes Inculta, and the time and cruelty they might be willing to spend on a ‘challenge’.

It doesn’t really bear thinking about.

“We don’t owe anybody anything.” She insists. “Let’s just do what we have to do and then get out of here before everything implodes. We’re free, no stake in this mess.”

 

[Obuzeti]

Jonah's heartbeat slows as he listens to Kara. He closes his eyes and leans his head against hers for a long moment, letting himself breath in the scent of her hair. Buried in red, he takes hold of the gripping, spiteful hate deep in him - and pushes it back for the moment. He doesn't bury it deep, again, so that it fuels the furnace of him, drives him forward. Instead, he takes the memory of this moment, and tucks it inside.

This he wants only for himself. If this - if Kara - is the only thing he has until the end, he would be alright with it.

Caesar he can let go, for a time. Maybe forever. He doesn't have that kind of foresight.

"Alright," he says, eventually. "No fights with Caesar."

Jonah takes a deep breath, and already knows this is going to involve the kind of verbal capitulation to which he would never submit himself otherwise. But the warm, petite body in his arms reminds him of what really matters, and he steels himself against that incumbent humiliation.

"No fights with Caesar," he repeats, more solid this time. Then he glances down to Kara. "We'll both get out of there. I promise."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

The next day:

Initially, Kara had been dead set on wearing her usual mismatched attire, Legion or no Legion. Her lucky jacket in particular-she didn’t go anywhere without it, let alone enemy encampments. But apparently she wouldn’t have gotten far in her usual get up, and if Jonah was looking at having to pretend-she ought to at least try not to make it too difficult. His lady being forced to strip and don a burlap sack would maybe be a tad too much-though Kara claimed she’d do it just to prove she could in fact make ANYTHING look good.

But, no. He had figured something similar to his own attire would work, and Kara just so happened to have some stolen combat armor-so he had worked some magic with that just this morning. Sporting his handiwork now, Kara better matched Moray’s own aesthetic and looked almost but not quite as professional-there was still some ‘Kara flair’ she’d thrown into the mix, such as the heart shaped sunglasses resting on the brim of her black cadet’s cap, and the matching pink bubble gum she was occasionally blowing bubbles with.

She wore black beneath the muddy yellow, ochre colored chest and back plate, a long sleeved shirt rolled up to her elbows and pants with both legs intact beneath matching knee pads. She’d taken the time to scrawl on them with paint markers-bright yellow smiley faces grinned toothily, the right particularly cheerful looking despite obvious x’s for eyes and an arrow through his head.

Her pants were tucked into the same shorter topped boots she’d worn to Sierra Madre, that ace of diamonds caught behind the laces of the right one, pressed tight against the leather tongue. The knife normally sheathed in her taller boots was currently on her left hip, Lil Devil at the small of her back, and a black hip satchel on her right one. Rather than a big gun in the sling on her back, Kara was once again sporting a baseball bat.

Most of the walk there Kara had been dicking around with the dogs for the most part-the four vagabonds that had left Old Lady Gibson’s on their own accord to seek them out, and then Hrolf himself of course. Bruce, short legged former Fiend dog that he was-had been left behind with Cachino of all people, and with strict babysitting instructions-Kara was as amused as ever to fuck with the guy, and had been worried that, without Hrolf, the mutt wouldn’t be safe among the other mongrels, whom they intended to leave outside of Cottonwood.

Kara scritched Hrolf behind the ear and popped another bubble between her teeth.

“You got yer special ‘forgiveness’ bauble out where they can see it?” She never called Caesar’s Mark the same thing twice, and honestly-didn't intend to. It's just a coin on a string, but she's guessing everyone just knew better than to try and fake one.

Kara gave a nod towards the fast approaching settlement. “There a shortcut through there, one to take us straight to the ferry?”

Kara’s never been through there. Never had a reason to be, or been fool enough to venture out this close to it. It’s a slaver’s camp, everyone knew that.

 

[Obuzeti]

Jonah is even more grim than usual. His fatigues are tinged brown from the road dust - unlike Kara, his isn't new, and he's not about to trot out a wash and polish for this motherfucker. His weapons are, however, freshly oiled and clean, as little as that has to do with Moray putting out the silver for the top skirt. It's because he's fairly certain that

"Hard as it might be, try not to drop a lot of quips once we're in, Kara," Jonah says, his lips a thin line as he trudges past Cottonwood Cove. He's been there before and there are no sights that will be a boon to Kara. The ridge around the Outlook circles the entire encampment, and he angles towards that route. "Legionnaires in person are cuntsacks to the last man. Inculta was vastly more polite than they're going to be. Get your thick skin up, because if I start killing them, it's going to be hard to stop."

The Mark bounces on his chest with his stride. He'd tape it down, like a reasonable human being, but he's not sure how they'd take that.

The ferry comes into sight. It's pathetic, but the looming mass of Fortification Hill on the other side of the river definitely isn't. A noticeably tall Legionnaire mans the dock, actually taller than Jonah himself - a rarity anywhere, given that he stands just shy of six and a half feet tall. The soldier sneers down his nose at both of them as they approach, but when his eyes alight on the Mark his expression smooths.

"Ave Caesar. Do you stand ready to travel to the Fort?" he says, eyes traveling across the party before him. Moray is known, as is his pet woman. The mongrel with them is as big a breed as he's ever seen, though, and he nods in satisfaction at the way the wolfhound falls in precisely at the mercenary's side. It wears no collar, but such is the business of agents, perhaps?

Kara he dismisses entirely. His eyes don't even consider her as he looks back to Moray.

"Yes," Moray says, terse. Nothing else. The Legionnaire taps a fist to his chest and moves to the front of the ferry as the trio file aboard behind him.

"Where did you come across such a fine hound?" the Legionnaire asks, as he begins to move them across a river.

"He outlived his patrol and chose to accompany me when I passed," Moray says, which is both absolutely true and less than indicative of the whole truth.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

“Thick skin?” Kara laughs, the silvery real sound, light and cheerful. “I grew up with raiders. Between that sorta training and how incredibly great I know I am-” Kara removed the heart shaped glasses from the cadet cap with a flourish, sliding them on over her eyes as she pops a smaller bubble of gum. “You think anybody’s got shit to say to me that’ll ding MY feelings? Ha!”

Trading barbs was one of her favorite pastimes, as he well knew! But hey, if it helped she should try to behave. She might tolerate and find a lot of disrespect hilarious, but him not so much. Course, ‘try’ was the keyword here-her impulses got ahead of her more than she did them.

She’d just have to pretend, too. She’s just his mildly useful, begrudgingly tolerated side piece anyway, right? Toeing close to the line, but not ‘daring’ to cross it? Right. For all they knew, she had just enough skill her usefulness far outweighed the annoyance in having her around. Plus, men had needs, right?

Blech.

They skirt around the settlement and Kara doesn’t so much as glance in its direction, not even behind the cover of her obnoxious shades. Place has nothing to do with her-the apocalypse was full of fucked up stories, this was hardly the least of them. Instead, the courier chatters on while she can still get away with it.

“These guys are all broken records, anyway. Whore this and profligate that-it’s boring. I’m not going to waste all my glorious creativity crafting up quips for so little return, no sir.”

They’re cutting in for the river and ferry now, and it’s almost but not quite a point of no return-she can’t swim. Never learned how, never been unlucky enough to NEED to learn how, and in a hurry. But hey, drowning would be a form of escape, ya needed it bad enough.

The skirt’s tall, taller even than Jonah-and he doesn’t bother with her in the least, though he does like Hrolf. Kara approves, though the impulse to speak up about the mongrel, be more than scenery-maybe call him a fur baby just to see the dude cringe-is strong, she’s already started pretending and resists the urge.

Still, she’s never been on a raft before-and while she assumes an almost military sort of parade rest at the back, she’s leaning more to one side to peer over the edge of it and into the water. She’s heard there’s fish with human teeth in there.

 

[Obuzeti]

Moray remains a stoic asshole the rest of the ferry trip, though the other Legionnaire - annoyingly talkative, as it turns out - figures out that Moray will correct him on any nuance of hunting wildlife, and spends the rest of the fifteen-minute ride quizzing him about Deathclaws when he finds out the mercenary has practice killing them. Moray advises him that Deathclaws usually hunt alone, and that it's best to lure them into a trap with a decoy, as they get tunnel vision on the sprint and can be crippled easily by ambushers. They also have thinner armor on the spinal column and piercing it will paralyze the big beasts.

By the time they get to the fort, Moray looks even more homicidal than normal and he's stepping off the boat before it even makes it to the dock, stalking towards the gate as Hrolf leaps after him at a trot. The gates are manned, and the guard there is at least less inclined to make casual conversation, as he calls out, "Halt and present arms! No one may take weapons into Caesar's camp!"

He draws to a halt, flips out his carbine from the shoulder sling in a smooth motion, and presents the stock to the guard. He takes hold of it and almost dismissively slings it aside to the ground, but stops halfway through the motion as he makes eye contact with Moray. Instead, he just leans it against the wall. In response, the mercenary flips Hew over and offers the handle instead of the loaded barrels to the guard next, and then that mean knife he carries on his hip.

"Explosives?" Moray says, something like resignation coloring his tone, and the guard confirms it. Kara's partner sighs, turns aside and drops to a knee, then unslings his rucksack and begins to poke through it and the many pockets and pouches of his own fatigues. Grenades, mines, and claymores begin to gather on the ground before him, spare explosive powder, custom charges, tripwires, detcord, a swiftly growing pile of things that go boom that has the guard taking a slow step back.

"Go ahead and disarm too, Kara," Moray directs. " . . . may take a bit."

The gate guard glances over at the woman now, and sneers. "A proper dissolute would be dressed in burlap, or whore's wears," he says, the words thrust at Kara like a sword.

Moray's face ripples.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Kara gives a nod-she's suddenly glad she hadn't worn her jacket, these fucks might have torn it all up looking for all her toys-and whips the baseball bat out of its sling just as one of the skirts turns to sneer at her.

"A proper dissolute would be dressed in burlap, or whore's wears,"

"A 'proper' dissolute, eh?" The courier responds, utterly unfazed as she taps the bat almost absently against her boot heel. "This some kinda bid to see me in my skivvies or somethin'?"

It gets a rise out of him long before he'd have EVER gotten one out of her-and the newly red faced guard snatched the baseball bat out of her hands to throw it violently back against the wall. It's something Hrolf doesn't like, the mongrel issuing a warning growl and watching.

Kara smirks, lifting her sheathed knife from her belt and tossing it over to join the bat. He doesn't look likely to try THAT again. "If Moray wanted me in any of that he woulda dressed me in some of that. Jeez." The opaque glasses prevented knowing for sure, but one could just HEAR the red head rolling her eyes.

"You need to teach her some proper respect." Says the guard dealing with Moray, glaring at the petite redhead and even, maybe, sizing her up. She was small enough he doubts it'd take much-it was more a matter of one beating being enough.

 

[Obuzeti]

Hrolf might growl, but Moray's response is more emphatic. He finishes setting all the explosives on the ground into a pile, resettles his now much-lighter rucksack back onto his shoulders, stands up, and then turns and backhands the Legionnaire gate guard so hard his helmet rings like a bell, spinning halfway round his head so that the opening faces the wrong way The blows knocks the man into a stagger and he flails at his helmet, gasping as he wrenches it back into position. His nose is already trickling blood.

"Whenever you're ready to open the gate," Moray says, idly, Hrolf padding forward to present a unified line of scrimmage against the bloodied guard.

"Your profligate behavior will have you killed out of hand by Caesar," the guard spits, hand flying to the hilt of his gladius.

Moray just looks at him. "The gate, please?" he repeats, eyebrows raising.

The guard spits again - it's blood this time, not just spit - and signals, the gates swinging wide to permit them entry. Moray wanders through at an absolutely untroubled pace. Hrolf keeps himself between the guard and Kara until they pass, the gates closing behind them with a solid thud.

Jonah releases a long exhale.

"Alright," he says. "Caesar. You coming with or . . . I don't know what you'd do out here, but if you're not interested, keep Hrolf with you."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Even Kara jumps-behind her sunglasses her eyes widen before she recovers in a hurry-unsure which bit of that had been too much to take, but apparently-something had.

They don’t seem any more sure what to do than she is-though if it’s going to be a fight, better that it’s here rather than in there, with only two guys vs Jonah and Hrolf and-well, she supposes she could make a good crack afterwards.

It doesn’t come to that-Moray just repeats the request plain as day, even says please-and the guy does everything but welcome them through. The hairs on the back of her neck were already raised-and despite herself, this time, this time-Kara does turn and look out at the big blue sky as she heads into someone else’s domain.

It’s there. The orange yellow sand and the dark blue water of the river, the winding broken road beyond...but so is Cottonwood Cove. It’s a terrible last look, if she was honest.

The guard was glaring at her. Kara winked at him over her glasses with a finger gun, grinning her raider grin-and then the doors closed heavily on all of them as soon as Hrolf was clear.

Her heart’s going a little fast.

“No, we go together.” Kara says, richter grin wrestled briefly under control as they move through the tighter pass into the fort proper. It’s going to be fine. They’ll be heading right back out again, and then she can spin this story whichever way she wants-that they took a vacation to Fortification Hill, and lived through it.

Going together wasn’t much option, turns out. The fancier armored skirt was matter of fact about it, but clearly wouldn’t be moved-no women in to see Caesar. Kara doesn’t make a quip-just watches him move forward alone.

She shoulda made him take Hrolf.

“C’mon, pal.” She murmured to the mongrel, turning and walking away when shooed off. It’s not a fun place to be-there’s men everywhere, for one. A lot of them unhappy to see her. She’s been in hostile territory before, but never quite like-well. This.

Maybe it’s good he’d left Hrolf with her.

Kara wandered around in as plain as sight as possible, looking the place over-there were other women, but they were just...scenery. No one paid them any attention, they were indeed wearing burlap rags, and no matter who she saw or where, they were carrying around bags of-well, she doesn’t know what. Backs bent under the things, trudging around with downcast gazes.

She doesn’t watch that for too long. There’s some Brahmin over in a little pen-they looked better cared for then the women-and Kara heads that way next, less angry eyes-and as she casts a glance behind her to confirm this, nearly trips over a girl carrying a water bucket.

“Oh!” She’s quick to steady girl and sloshing water pail-and a little, caught off guard. Caught way off guard. She glances to a meandering, uncaring Hrolf, then back at the dark haired, dirt smudged kid she’d nearly run over. “-er, hiya!”

“I...I can’t talk to you.” She had the same downcast gaze as everybody else, but Kara can see her grip on the bucket tighten. “It’s not allowed.”

“No? Well, I don’t see anybody watchin’.” Kara breezily dismisses, removing her sunglasses as she kneels down in front of her, putting herself at eye level. “How they gonna know?”

It’s the skinny arms and legs in particular that maybe do it-but she’s got that sick feeling in her stomach again, the heart twisting anxiety of looking at something helplessly vulnerable, and not knowing what to do about it. She maybe shouldn’t talk to the kid.

She reaches out for a careful touch of the little girl’s shoulder, tilting her head into her line of sight. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

The kid smiles back and now she’s got eye contact, curiosity. She’s hooked.

“I’m Kara.” The courier offers up cheerfully with a genuine smile.

“H-hi Kara. I’m...I’m Melody. Or was.”

“If you still want that name you keep it, kid. Right in here-” Kara tapped the girl’s forehead. “Remembering’s free. About the only thing that is, but hey.”

The smile was relieved, now. Whatever the hell else they’d been trying to call her, it hadn’t quite taken yet. Kara smiles back and just...stays there a moment, offering up attention that was neither the hostility of the Legionaries nor the shelled out exhausted emptiness of the worn down slaves.

“So what do you do here, Melody?”

“I...um. I help take care of the Brahmin. Sometimes bring water and food to people. ...you?”

“Came with my friend. Figured we could be friends, too. Anybody come here with you?”

Melody gives a shake of her head. Seemed like a possible sore spot. Kara really hoped she wasn’t fucking sold. Selling a baby was a lot different than selling an eight year old-but who knew what happened. Rest of her family could have been stolen and dispersed already, maybe. Could have been born into this shit. Kara doesn’t know.

“Just you then?”

A nod-and then hesitation. Kara waits, a casual glance towards a stack of feed bags, the empty one that probably served as a bed for the kid. Kara thinks so, anyway, because she can see little drawings in the sand. That wasn’t shit they’d probably let her get away with in the daytime.

“There was...there was my bear I had with me, though.” Melody finally ventures, almost whispering. Ah, a toy. Kara had never had any of those, not as a kid-and for good reason.

“Ya lose him?”

Melody shook her head.

“They take him away?” Of course they fucking did.

“Antony did. Took Sergeant Teddy away, gave him to the stinky dogs.”

“Ah.” The cigarette burn on her shoulder itches, and the sickness turned to a flare of anger-but a hell of a lot of good that’d do Melody. That was how people were, sometimes. The world. And here? Yeah, probably for the best she learns now, rather than later. “Better to just remember him too, then.” Kara tries-and that gets the kid’s blood up.

“I don’t WANT to just remember him. I want him back!” The water sloshes and Kara leaned away a bit as it splashed on the dirt around her kneepad. “I kept him secret, and safe-but someone must have told on me. If we’re friends, maybe you could help me? Maybe you could look for him?”

Kara frowned. On the one hand, she was impressed the kid had turned that around on her. On the other, that bear was probably in pieces. Even if not-

“They’d just take him away again. Shouldn’t love things you can’t keep a hold of, kid.” Kara rose to stand. She shouldn’t have talked to the kid-that was a rookie mistake. “Not in a place like this.”

Melody seemed to accept that, and really-it WAS for the best. If she had the bear and even if they didn’t take it-they’d always threaten to, dangle it over her head. They knew she loved it.

And that, was a glaring weakness in a place you couldn’t afford any.

Melody was looking down at the ground again-at the bucket. In the reflection of the water, Kara could see her face-see her worrying on her lip, and thinking.

It’s a cheap lesson, she tells herself. Has to happen.

“...but if you DO find him…” One Melody maybe wasn’t going to learn fast enough to spare herself some serious heartache. “Then maybe you could...could take him with you…?”

“I dunno kid, think he’d pay fare?” Kara rattles. “Can you pay his fare?”

“...no. He’s just...just a toy. But if you find him…”

“I’ll try and shake him down then. See you, Melody-remember, no tellin’ we talked.”

~*~

Kara was not happy. Skirts followed her with their eyes, glaring and hating and lusting or whatever the fuck their problem REALLY was-and Kara half wants to fuck with them just to start shit just to let off some steam.

But that’s trouble she’s unlikely to be able to talk her way out of, and with Hrolf in tow she’d better not. She just...she just wants out of there. They’re going to leave, and maybe she wouldn’t even make up any stories about the place. Maybe, she’s going to pretend she was never here at all. Forget all about it.

….but would she? She doesn’t buy that sackcloth and ashes shit, but regret? She's done her damnedest to live without any. Would she regret having come here, and left, and pretending she hadn’t seen anything? Shouldn’t have come in the first place-she’s an idiot FOR coming here. Did she really think that what-nothing terrible would be going on? That she could just ignore it if there was? She can NEVER ignore the awful shit when it’s happening in front of her. Never! She gets all KINDS of fucking stupid about it, almost every time!

Of COURSE there were kids getting steam rolled over and sold into slavery same as anybody else-that’d always been a thing! OF COURSE there’d be one here in the Fort! Probably more in Cottonwood! Melody? Melody would grow up treated less than a pet, watching women be treated as little more than inconvenient necessities until she WAS one of those ‘necessities’, assuming she even lived that long, dipshits not believing in medicine.

And OF COURSE they’d take her stupid fucking bear. Poor kid shouldn’t care about anything outside herself, not here, but did they have to be such flaming fucking assholes about it? Why’d the kid have to pin her hopes for Sergeant Teddy on a stranger in the first place? Not even a reunion, just-what, assurances of bear safety out in the fucking desert?

Fuck it, maybe she DOES want to know just how well the ‘Sarge’ was faring-so who was Antony? And where did they keep the 'stinky' dogs?

 

[Obuzeti]

Jonah finds Caesar unimpressive. He's a white-haired guy on a throne, who starts listing reasons to be angry at Jonah as soon as he showed up. There's a healthy list, to be sure, but if he was going to fight Moray, he'd have had the Legion come at them outside the gates, before he was within range of Moray's hands. That, or he's stupid.

Caesar isn't stupid, but that sure as hell isn't the same thing as wise.

"But you - of all people - dare to come here and stand before me, the mighty Caesar. What were you thinking?" he says, and Moray has to restrain the very real urge to just kill him. Kara's face drifts through his mind, and the rage stabilizes for a moment.

"If you wanted to try to kill me, you'd have done it before I got this close," Moray answers.

"Perhaps I just wanted to know what you looked like before I had you put down," Caesar replies, a little quirk at the corner of his mouth.

"Then that was a stupid choice," Moray answers. He doesn't budge when the rasp of steel from sheathe answers the insult, as the Praetorians draw their weapons.

Caesar, though, just chuckles and waves them down. "Fair," he acknowledges. "I know of how you work. That's not a contest I'd care to wager on. No, I grow tired of your - efficiency - serving the NCR and the Strip's interests. Equally, I have seen the merit in acquiring it for my own ends. The Legion has always preferred to absorb its enemies rather than annihilate them completely. Your talents will serve me well."

Will, he says.

Caesar likely never knows how close he comes to death, as the unearthly light of rage fills Moray and he untenses like a snake leaving the coil, or an arrow from a bow. He aborts the motion into a roll of his shoulders, like he's straightening up, but no one is fooled. The praetorians haven't put their weapons away. Caesar is still smiling.

Jonah has promised not to die today, and this is the only reason Caesar is not screaming his last into the fading sunset.

"What's the job?" he says, and Caesar leans back in his throne, the smile turning a trifle smug.

"There is a bunker underneath this fort with the markings of the Lucky 38 Hotel - House's domain, I understand. It has all the usual trappings of pre-War establishments, which means my legionnaires can neither open it, nor operate the machinery within - not that I desire to, honestly. It's a stain on this camp and the honor of the Legion. Destroy it. I understand this is the key."

Then he tosses the Platinum Chip to Moray, like it's nothing. He catches it, looks at it once, and puts it away in a pocket while the icewater fades from his veins.

Caesar waves a hand. "Now go."

The motherfucker isn't even going to pretend to pay Moray. Thinks he owns him.

Jonah is no fucking murderer's tool, no weapon in the hand of a tyrant, and the rage that arises behind his blank face is deeper than the blood rush and soft in its annihilating hatred. It breathes in his heart like a living thing, and its weight makes it easy to nod and turn around, walk away from that smile on Caesar's face, the man knowing what he's doing, because this entire encampment will be ash when Moray is done with it. Every single one of these tools and knives and scalpels of this man Caesar, his legionnaires and his armies, his diminishing will and his contempt for humanity - he will render it as unto nothing.

The pale-faced rage Moray experiences blinds him for several minutes to the world - he walks straight to the nearest wall and stares out over it, ignoring the questioning gaze of the nearest sentry. Once the hiss of anathema retreats within his soul, he takes a long breath and goes to find Kara.

He'll need her to get into the bunker, probably. He needs her anyways. He doesn't trust his responses right now. The weight of his code has shifted, hangs loose. There's a tectonic shift in the mantle of his soul. What comes up is black and pungent, loathsome and visceral.

He needs Kara.

Instinct directs him to the kennels, and indeed, that's where he finds Hrolf, seated outside the door to the arena and staring down a pair of nearby legionnaires.

"It's a mongrel, right? Get like a rope net to throw at it, keep the jaws off you while we cut it to pieces. It shouldn't be hard," the bigger, black-haired one suggests.

"I don't know where to find something like that, and if I miss - which is likely, because those dogs are damn fast - it's going to chew the shit out of me while you fuck around trying to get an angle," the other one, brown-haired and smaller says. He sounds calmer, but he's not looking away from Hrolf, and Hrolf isn't looking away from him. The dog is wigging him out with its stare alone.

Moray fails to give a fuck. He clicks his tongue to Hrolf, and walks right past the wolfhound into the arena, who follows after him in silence.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

The heavy gate opens and the pair instantly had the attention of five shaggy mongrels-and the one red haired courier plunked down in their mist. She had shed the upper half of the combat armor, currently sat on the back half of the chest piece. The largest of the five mongrels (but not as large as Hrolf), grey in the snout and with a clouded over left eye sat beside her. The hand not petting the older dog held what looked to be a rather roughed up teddy bear, ripped from shoulder to groin and missing an ear, not to mention soggy with dog slobber.

Kara moves to stand, absently slipping the tattered stuffed animal into one of the belts hanging off her hip as she moves to meet him. Mongrels follow with their eyes, but don’t otherwise move-except for the one she’d been petting, who trails behind and seems mostly curious about Hrolf.

Kara doesn’t really notice any of that. She only sees Jonah, and...well, he doesn’t look so good. He doesn’t look good at all.

Kara doesn’t say anything-she just walks straight into him before throwing her arms around his middle for as big and as tight of a hug as she can muster. All Kara was wearing was the black long sleeved shirt, now-though rather than the bit of plush softness on that chest, there’s something hard and obtrusive in the middle.

She’d secreted her ‘insurance plan’ through the gate, just in case. The groves of the pineapple grenade imprinting on her skin in the hug.

“Think I found Hrolf’s mom-” Kara muffles against his chest, tipping her head back to look up at him. “He led me right to the gate to mount a rescue! Gate guy didn’t want to let me in, so I climbed over-and then he said something about beating the disobedience out of me, blahblahblah-here I was being helpful, reuniting doggie families, and that’s the thanks I get. So, I told him he’d better pack a lunch, ‘cause if that was the goal, he’d be at it a while.”

Babbling. Just running her mouth about nothing, and holding him close. They shouldn't have come. That's just the plain truth.

 

[Obuzeti]

Jonah wraps his arms around Kara and takes a long, shuddering breath. He doesn't speak - he just lets her ramble, her nerves coming up and out through her mouth, and leans back against the wall to take her in for a long moment. The legionnaires behind them say something, but that's nothing he cares about. He squeezes Kara tight against him, and lets the weight of her warmth recenter his universe.

"I'm glad you're alright," is what he says, and it wasn't what he had meant to say, but it's the right thing nonetheless, and reminds him of what he's here for.

A hand claps on his shoulder, ruining the moment. Moray's eyes open and he turns to look over his shoulder at the Legionnaire there, who quails back at the terrible, unblinking stare, then remembers his spine.

"Your bitch blocked herself up with the dogs for hours! Is this how one of Caesar's honored trains his household?" he says.

Moray pats Kara on the shoulder, pushing her back a little bit, and turns to face the other man. His face is deceptively calm, and his posture casual.

"She's going to take anything she wants out of the kennels. All the dogs, if she wants," Moray says. He's smiling. "There is fuck all you get to do about it."

The Legionnaire starts to swell up, his face flushing red with anger and his mouth opening, when Moray backhands him too. This one he knocks entirely off his feet to the floor, and the big mercenary just stares at him in disdain. "Are you a man of Legion or a bitch? Stand up and duel me over it. Stop fucking talking."

Moray flicks his eyes back to Kara and gives her an eye-jerk towards the door of the arena.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Her? He was the one who had to go talk to Caesar! Kara huffs a not quite laugh-and then feels the hand come down on the solidness that was his shoulder, and...oops.

Apparently time to air grievances, but Kara's not sorry. It'd been impulse and bear finding, but also a little bit strategic, her climbing in here. She might have even protested as such with some kind of ridiculousness-but Jonah gives her a pat and slides her back, and Kara takes his cue because, honestly-she's not people to them, she's his misbehaving pet.

"She's going to take anything she wants out of the kennels. All the dogs, if she wants,"

Hidden safely behind him, Kara's eyes widen-and the red head twists to blink at said dogs, this assertion catching her a little off guard. Can...can he do that? Caesar his best buddy now, or-!

DOWN goes the asshat, and Moray calls HIM the bitch, and if she wasn't so sure this was a bad turn of events, Kara would have laughed her ass off.

He gives her the signal to vacate. Maybe this was just blowing off steam. Maybe it's totally how dog ownership was settled around here.

"I just remembered-they said no tits in the arena! Gosh, silly me, forgot I had some of those-". Kara glances at the dogs, then Hrolf's 'mom'-and waves the older dog out after her. She guesses this means Sargeant Teddy was a free man, too-Antony's eyes narrow on the bear, then Lupa-and then he shuts the gate.

"Lupa's never been so docile before."

"Animals like me, I brought her long lost son-". Kara was already heading down the few feet to the spot she'd climbed over before. Antony's expression flatlines. "Do not-dammit."

Too late-Kara had started climbing the wall again, this time only venturing to peek. More than one Legionarie is glaring at her back-but with two mongrels now on the loose, and Moray back in play-no one makes a move to remove her.

 

[Obuzeti]

The Legionnaire in the arena squares off with Moray, snarling, who picks up a machete and totally ignores the associated armor. Instead, he just gestures the other man forward with as bored an expression as he's ever had on his face. The gladius is held loosely in his hand, dangling off to one side. It's insultingly casual.

The match begins, and the other Legionnaire explodes forward and feints for Moray's face, who lifts his blade to block. Instead, his opponent slides low and shoulder rushes into the big mercenary, driving the point of his blade in as the barge connects. Then he screams.

Moray catches the charge with his elbow in the other man's collarbone, and catches his thrust with his gladius through the other man's elbow, all in a deceptive little side step and brace of his sword hand. Then his off hand takes hold of the Legionnaire's hair, and the gladius whips up and through the other man's throat. He collapses, blood bubbling from his carotid and grasping with his non-ruined arm at the fitful spray.

The entire exchange is perhaps two seconds. Moray drops the machete on his opponent's dying body and jerks his head at Kara. "Claim your prizes, hon."

Then he turns his flat gaze on Antony, who stares back at the other man. Dead silence hangs between them. Finally, Antony cracks. "What?"

"You want a shot?" Moray says, even.

"I have a duty to perform," Antony replies. To his credit, he doesn't sound intimidated or defensive.

Moray shrugs and turns to regard Lupa and Hrolf, sitting side by side now. Lupa doesn't give a fuck about him. Those old canine eyes follow Kara around, though, and her nose is always pointed at Hrolf, who sits slightly in front of her, ears perked in what he recognizes as a defensive posture.

Well, Kara found something to make this trip worthwhile, he guesses.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Moray’s bored. Only Kara’s hat and eyes are visible over the top of the wall that separates the arena from everything else, a little less when her boot slips a minute and she slides down the wall, has to haul herself back up on arm strength only before she finds a toehold again-but behind it, she’s frowning.

She’s never seen a sword fight before and while she trusts Moray knows what he’s doing-it still makes her a anxious. You could probably lop a whole arm off with one of those things, who knows?!

Her heart was rabbit fast in her chest-thumping against the grenade tucked between her breasts.

But it’s over in literal seconds-she doubts it blew off hardly ANY steam, given how bored he still somehow looks.

"Claim your prizes, hon."

Kara lets her boots slide down the wall, and jumps down in a fluff of dust. She looks at Lupa, and absently touches at the ravaged bear still hanging from her hip.

“We’ll take the pretty girl, if she wants to come with us.” Kara sticks out her hand, and Lupa moves to meet it with her nose, accepting the strokes to her head after.

Antony just watches as his most vicious mongrel, the matron of so many good, fine dogs-pads away with a profligate apparently as liked by dogs as he was.

“I saw the bunker.” Kara says, blue eyes still a little widened and-well. She’s not twitchy exactly, but there’s something akin to visible high alert in her expression; highly unusual for the normally relaxed, lazy casual courier. “Did he have the chip, or did he want us to do something for it?” Too bad if the latter-she’s never coming back here again, nor letting him if she had a say in it.

 

[Obuzeti]

Jonah waits until they turn a corner and get out of sight from the Arena, then reaches down and takes Kara's hand. The weight of the Platinum Chip slides easily into her palm. "Good news there, at least," he says. "He didn't know what it was for, aside from a door key. I get the impression he has a whole laundry list of shit for me to do, and I'm disinclined to present myself for duty. So we go get this chip, I get -"

Moray's face twitches, a shallow ripple sliding across his face like the disturbed surface of a pond when a fish snatches an insect on the water.

" - I get my pat on the head for being a good boy," he says, continuing onward like nothing had happened. "We split and never see this place again. Or whatever. I'm not staying around."

He loves Kara, but nothing is worth this place and the sneering superciliousness of Caesar. He barely lasted three minutes of it in the first place.

"Let's hit this bunker and clean it out," Moray says, as they come up on the structure proper. "S'what Caesar wants anyway. I'll throw some charges around, pretend I collapsed it. You can seal the door after us and pretend like that did the work. He hasn't got anyone who can so much as handle a keyboard anyways."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

The chip.

Kara’s heart jumps, the courier’s expression shifting to thoughtful consideration, one of her many poker faces-a gambler considering a mediocre hand.

This though, it’s a royal flush-maybe.

Maybe it is. When the war breaks out in full, House will be able to hold onto the strip. Maybe-he’d nearly lost it twice already. To Benny, to the Omertas and Caesar. But even it went well? Even if he lasted long enough to tell the weakened victors to get the fuck out or parlay, what about those without current contracts with House? What about The Kings, or Julie Farkas and those silly Followers in Freeside? Would House look favorably on the deal with the NCR? Or would he brand them traitors, and here now would be his solution to that? And Westside-they were doing well independent of anyone, would they accept if House claimed Mojave supremacy? Would he roll over them too? The Boomers? The free towns leaning NCR’s way?

Jonah’s talking about all that Caesar probably wants him for, and Kara glances up at him when he stops abruptly, sees his expression.

“-I get my pat on the head for being a good boy-"

Kara’s eyes cut back towards the distant skirts posted along the wall. She’s not sure he’d make it through round two without flipping shit. And she’s not sure she wants to ask him to, either. He doesn’t like to pretend. He doesn’t get the joke like she does, either-doesn’t delight in playing a part, in bending the knee and falsifying surrender just to get that in, to get their trust, begrudging or because they’re arrogant enough to assume the surrender is real, that she’s afraid, or she gets it, or is greedy enough or interested enough to follow through with whatever it is they’re dumb enough to trust her with

It’s all a game to Kara, but to him, even false capitulation was too high a price. And...Legion anything, takes him too close to things he doesn’t want to be, he’d said. He wants to be better.

Dying here wouldn’t serve them or anyone else, though. Not that she was in the business of servitude, or heroism, or whatever.

No, they didn’t come here to die. Not today.

Her fingers tighten on the chip. “Don’t go see him, not for that.” Kara says, slipping the chip into a slot marked for it and palming it once the doors slide open. “We’ll just leave.”

This had been all they needed from his majesty, and he'd handed it over assuming he had Moray under his thumb. Well, he didn't-he could get fucked, and then they were leaving the Mojave entirely. They don’t owe anybody anything. Not the Kings, not the Khans, and not some kid named Melody.

It was a rough world out there. Everyone had to make it on their own.

Everybody.

…

The doors close behind them, and they’re standing in just...a regular looking little lobby, an impressive looking door behind the reception desk, and a terminal on the wall beside that.

No eyes on her back, now. Just her, and Jonah, and two shaggy dogs.

Kara removes the bear from her hip almost in a dream, vibrant blue eyes staring down at the torn up, much loved Sergeant Teddy. A bear Melody doesn’t even want back, but wants secreted out-apparently for his safety.

Her other hand moves to her shoulder, finger tips to where one of the men in her first ‘gang’ had pressed a cigarette into her skin. It’s a sun, now. It’d stung extra, tattooing over the scar tissue, but it’d taken his mark and made it something that was hers, something that cemented her place in her real gang-until they got killed, anyway. She'd done what she could about that-and left to find adventure of her choosing.

She’s free, and didn’t owe anyone anything-she'd paid her dues, she was living large and exactly how she wanted. She’s free, and didn’t care about sack clothes and ashes, wasn't worried about being smited-she's in on the joke.

She’s free, and she doesn’t regret anything-she does what she wants.

Whatever she wants.

“Does...this bear look...lonely, to you?” Kara asks into the silence, still staring at the toy. Her thumb flops one of the bear's limbs inward a little, over the tear in his chest.

What?

 

[Obuzeti]

"Agreed," Jonah says, all too willing to just drop Caesar in the dirt and leave him behind. The Legion as a whole disgusts him, this frothing army of madmen pretending to moral superiority. The only thing that distingushes a killer is when he chooses to practice his art. The rest is meaningless, once you've decided the worth of human life is yours to judge.

Then he finally glances over at Kara, once they make it into the lobby, and he notices the bear. He doesn't know what that's about, but the look on Kara's face is one he's starting to recognize. Something's hurt her, deep under the laughter and the pranks - nothing intentionally done, but slipped under her armor like a cold wind.

Jonah doesn't look at the bear. The bear is a metaphor. The questions always are, too. It's her circling the drain of the latest question she doesn't want to face, and he doesn't play that game - she doesn't get to face these tragedies alone, anymore. So he lays a hand on Kara's other shoulder, gently guides her towards the reception desk, and plants himself on it. Then he picks Kara up and settles her onto his lap with an exhale, wrapping his arms around her.

"What happened?" he says, once she's safely ensconced in his grip.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

“Nothing happened.” Kara insists, her flair for the dramatic impaired by his embrace-but whatever grand story she was going to launch herself into-well, it dies before she really feels the impulse, looking at the tore up, pathetic piece of cloth and stuffing and encircled in the warm arms of Jonah of the whale.

This here though, was Sergeant Teddy. A freeloadin' bear seeking passage to the greater world? But all she sees when she looks at him is Melody looking hopeful, and cleverly turning the screw on her.

And that sickness in the pit of her stomach.

“You know, possessions! Never really did get possessions." Kara suddenly lights on, perking up in his arms. "I mean, if it’s yours it’s yours, until I get a hold of it, right? Then it’s mine. And the same thing the other way-it ain’t mine if I can’t keep a hold of it. I’m like this big, and was only ever smaller than that, before. Finders keepers, whether through being a sneak or just straight brawn-that's life!”

Kara shrugs.

“Baby Kara didn’t own jack shit, not the clothes on my back, nothin’, not even good inside stuff. And then my real gang later? C’mon. Raiders. You think I’ve got fast and loose ideas about ownership, pft, those guys.” Rambling, but the latter part of that sounded almost fond. “But that’s where I got myself the good stuff, the inside stuff. I learned, you know? Inside shit that counts. Memories, stories, tricks. Things nobody can steal from you. Not easily.”

Kara shrugs, one of her boots bobbing, still watching the bear, flopping his arm back and forth.

“And maybe I got stuff NOW, but I can hold onto it now, and wouldn’t give a fuck if it all went up tomorrow. That's the dues, you know, I paid 'em, so now I can do whatever. I do do whatever. There’s a time and place for possessions, is all I’m sayin’. And in some, you just gotta learn that in a hurry. You gotta know better than to have stuff they can hurt you with.”

Than to love stuffed pieces of cloth enough to ask it get smuggled out instead of you.

 

[Obuzeti]

Jonah listens, then shakes his head.

"Some things are mine, never to surrender," he disagrees. "The keepsakes are mementos - just a signifier. But they bore me up. I spent - more than a decade alone, moving from town to town, heading west. Killing things. There were no stories, but I had the guns that I took, and the books that I claimed, and other - trophies. They kept me moving when I had nothing else."

He didn't want the memories, or the stories. The tricks are molded into him regardless, now - muscle memory deeper than the man they were stamped into. Those things were reminders of what he had decided to be. Goalposts, more than prizes.

He had more than just his bare hands and the blood, even then, in the darkest of his days.

"Even if it's all you got, you'll cling on by your fingertips if you have to, to not surrender it," Jonah muses.

The bear makes sense now, at least.

Jonah waits the space of a long breath, letting the topic settle, and letting Kara brace herself.

"Who was the bear from?" he asks, gentle to soften the blow of the question.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

“She said her name ‘was’ Melody.” Kara leans her head against his shoulder, and the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, the anxious hurt in her heart-it’s there. Even wrapped up in his arms it’s there, and there’s no hiding from it.

She’s never able to ignore things, not when they’re in front of her.

“His name is Sergeant Teddy.” Kara flops the arm back and forth and kicks the feet, puppeting the toy. “She asked me to take him out with us, because they took him once already, you know? Gave him to the dogs, and sure enough-Lupa brought him to me. She had kept him secret I guess, but got found out. They’re assholes.”

Kara’s quiet a beat.

“...but you know, as is typical-the bum bear doesn’t have any fare.” Kara said, slowly. “She couldn’t pay me either. Might have to carry him on her own, somewhere...she can...keep him?”

Those big blue eyes flick up to his face, same color as the once crystalline Caribbean waters.

"Cause you know, bears cause trouble when they're lonely."

 

[Obuzeti]

Jonah considers this.

He can definitely afford to give the Legion another middle finger. He's already deserting a personal command from Caesar, it's not as if stacking a slave outbreak on top of that is going to make him any more dead if he gets caught. He shrugs and says, "If you want her out, we either buy her when we get out of the bunker, or wait until night and stage a breakout. You have an extra Stealth Boy on hand for her?"

The slave tents weren't that far from the wall. He could pick off a guard or two easy, open a spot for Kara to slip through and do her dirty work from within, and they could get out and be gone in fifteen, twenty minutes. It's high risk work, but that comes with working for Legion in general.

"I'm already going to be spitting in Caesar's eye," he says with a shrug. "You want to to this, we'll do it. Let's not leave any regrets when we get out of here, because I'm not coming back to Fortification Hill unless I get to level the fucking place. I can't stand the locals."

It's an odd touch of humor, but at least it's not the blinding rage he'd had at first.