Parting Gift

Cait

Three chairs crashed through the gap in the floorboards, shattering on impact at the ghoul's feet. He adjusted the blonde wig on his head and glared up at his accomplice, "You could have warned me."

"Hey, things that go up still fall down," Cait said, snickering at her hard work. Tommy only sighed, shoving a broom in vague sweeping motions to gather up the wood they'd chuck onto the fire later. Why she'd agreed to clean up this dump was anyone's guess, but it kept her from thinking too long and exhausted at night. It'd be ages before they'd wipe away all the raider blood.

Wood scraping across metal drew the attention of the only two people in the Combat Zone as sun broke through the opening front door. The fat arse adjusted his cheap suit, trying to tug it into place. Most people lost weight when they went ghoul, but not good ol' Tommy. Somehow he piled it on, more every year. Cait could almost respect it if she didn't have to get around his wide load to haul out dead bodies.

Tommy stepped away from the bar to greet the new customer. "I'm sorry, but the Combat Zone is still closed while we undergo renovations."

"Shit, is that what I'm doing?" Cait shouted before chucking a table off the platform walkway. Tommy only glared at her interruption, but the new guy jumped clean out of his boots. His baby face whipped up and down, and he damn near paled at the corpse pile Cait spent all of yesterday building.

"I...I'm not here for the, uh, fighting," the kid said, trying to yank his collar down.

"Good, because there ain't any," Cait called down, her hands cupped around her mouth for emphasis. She smiled at the uneasy turn of the kid's mouth and dropped to sit on the walkway, her legs dangling off the edge as she watched him approach Tommy.

"This is the Combat Zone?" the kid asked, his eyes zipping around like a bloodbug to take in every inch of what true combat looked like.

"The one and only," Tommy spoke, his bloodshot eyes darting up to his only remaining star. Cait knew the look: 'What the fuck is going on?' She leaned back, enjoying the show.

"I was asked to find a woman here, name of Cait," the kid said.

"Aye, that'd be me," she jabbed a thumb at her chest and, without any ceremony, launched herself off the catwalk. Momentum drove her ankle deep into the broken pile of wood, but Cait shrugged it off with a laugh. The kid looked like he walked into a Deathclaw nest, his eyes bulging from her move. "So, ya found me. What ya be wantin?"

"Oh, I, uh, that is..." he fished a box out of the canvas bag across his chest and held it towards her, "this is for you."

Cait eyed it up, then turned to the cram faced kid, "No offense kid, but ya ain't got the stones to handle me."

"That isn't what I. I mean, I was hired to deliver it, to you. Here," his words rose higher with each syllable until ending in a squeak.

She shrugged at Tommy, but the ghoul wasn't in no mood to fight with her on it. No one ever delivered anything to Cait, certainly nothing she didn't have to fork over caps for. Grabbing the box from the kid, Cait broke the string with her bare hand and ripped into the box like it was a fancy snack cake.

"Uh, you might want to be careful..." the kid tried to interrupt, but Cait shook him off.

"Oi, what's this then?" she asked, lifting a piece of paper up out of the box.

Tommy rolled his eyes, the lack of eyebrows not deterring him, "Try reading it."

"Smart arse," she muttered. Twisting the tiny words towards the stage lights, Cait spotted her name - all of it - and a bunch of gobbledygook about where she belonged, to who, and for how long. "This is...are you fucking with me?" she shouted, shaking the paper in the courier's face.

"No, ma'am. I...I'd never. I, um...help!" he twisted to the ghoul.

Cait did as well, her forehead burrowing in confusion. "It's my bleedin' contract. What's it doing in this box? Why's it sent to me? I thought you gave this to...shit. Shit!"

Tommy bent the contract around so he could read it in full, "Looks like she signed it over to you."

"Meaning...?" Cait blinked, her brain trying to catch up, "meaning, it's mine now. I'm mine?"

Nodding his head at understanding dawning across Cait's face, Tommy smiled. The patronization wasn't lost on Cait, who socked him in the arm - her knuckles sinking deep into the flayed tissue. "Don't go acting like a right, know-it-all fuckhead about it. Ain't no way you saw this coming."

"Actually, she made a deposit in your name some time ago. Purchased stock in the Combat Zone to be turned over to you. Welcome to a proper business partnership," Tommy said.

Cait snorted, unable to believe it. She'd been passed from hand to hand, an asset to whoever thought they could get something from her for so long this seemed impossible. Freedom, proper and true. And after all the shit she pulled on the road traveling with her to find the kid, Cait thought for sure she'd ditch her on the side and never look back. But now...Not just free, but a future too.

Drawing her arm across her eyes, the few grateful tears smudged up Cait's gauntlets. "Right, if I've got a say in this place, then you need to be listening to me."

Tommy rolled his eyes at the courier, who was trying to slide out of the conversation, "This should be good."

"It is, if'n ya know what's smart. Once we get this place cleaned up, we should tie in with Goodneighbor. Get some proper guards to keep the raiders off our backs. Hancock's good for it, I'm sure, as long as we wet his beak."

"Goodneighbor," Tommy mused, stroking his hairless chin, "that's not half bad."

"No shit," Cait slugged him again and turned to eye up the Combat Zone. It was still a disaster, but she could see a chance of potential in the broken place. "All right, fat arse, let's get to work."