Guns For Hire (R J MacCready)

Dirty Business

      "Took a walk, out in the Fens. Had a talk, with a man about some Chems. He asked me 'what's your flavour', I said  'I need a favour. I'm a little short of caps but I'm a good good neighbor.'"

My hips swayed to the music, to the sound of her voice. I'd grown comfortable within the walls of the Third Rail. The stage belonged to Magnolia, and the floor was mine. We worked well, our combination working for the business, the customers and for ourselves. Within a month of me working here, Goodneighbor had become my home. I was just another outcast who didn't belong, yet here we were, all a family of misfits. I was safe from those looking for me.

"Hey, sweetheart? Can I get another refill over here?"
A brusque grab of my arm caught my attention. The drifter raised his glass, his alcohol-glazed eyes attempting to offer seduction beneath the unattractive wink. I smiled, feigning innocence and took it towards the bar. The stickiness that soaked the bottle of bourbon whiskey was thick against my fingers, the rich smell pouring into the glass with the spirit.

       "Took a dive, with the swans. Out in the Common with nothing on. The Mutants stopped to savour, all my bad behaviour, it's all in a day's work when you're a good good neighbor." 

The whiskey was returned to the hands of the drifter in a few moments, his flirtatious gaze meeting my face once again, but I couldn't meet it this time. My focus was on two men who walked in, their combat armour green like their leathers. A white skull was painted on each of their chest pieces. My body froze, hands beginning to tremble. The man before me was too drunk to notice the change in my demeanour as I rushed to go back behind the bar. I kept my head down out of the fear of attracting their attention, whilst raising a sly eye to keep an eye on their movements. A lone drifter lifted his head upon their halt to his right. He looked them up and down before speaking. 
"What, another lot o' you mercs looking for MacCready? He's in the back room." 
The two men looked in the direction of the VIP room before surveying the area. 

       "We can shake it up a little, we can kick it up a notch. We can put it on the griddle, better get it while it's hot. I'll meet you in the middle, you can show me what you got, if you're feeling lucky tonight."

A pair of cold grey eyes landed on me in my failed efforts to make myself invisible. A growing smirk followed by a wink increased the panic in me as the man carried himself intimidatingly towards the bar. His friend lingered behind, throwing another glance toward the VIP room. The man's eyes were fixated on me, but soon switched to Whitechapel Charlie.
"The Third Rail, this your place?"
"What? Nah, gov'. This place is Hancock's. Old Charlie just keeps the floors clean and the drinks dirty. What can I get for ya?"
"No drinks right now, just getting to know the place and it's people." I shot my eyes at the floor when his head shifted in my direction. "We're here to speak to MacCready. Give us a few minutes then send your girl in with a bottle of the best. Put it on MacCready's tab." With a menacing wink, the man turned and walked towards the back room, his associate on his tail.


"You heard the man, business is business. We accept all clientele in this establishment, doesn't matter if some look more scary than the others. Go in there with that bottle, and if they ask you to stand and pour their drinks for 'em, you stand their and pour their drinks for 'em. If they want you to suck their cocks, I suggest you do so. But if they take anything too far, I'm sure the young mercenary will step in. If not just shout. Now go on, their whistles need a wettin'." Whitechapel Charlie pushed me from behind the safeties of the bar, with a cold whiskey in hand and three glasses in the other.

         "I do the boys a favour, with all my manual labour, it's good to be a good good good good..."

Magnolia's distinctive voice faded away as I concentrated on the level of tension that swam openly in the air of the VIP room. My hands were warm with an uncomfortable sweat, fingers itching with anxiety.

"Can't say I'm surprised to find you in a dump like this, MacCready." The man who'd approached the bar spoke first, his voice gruff with animosity towards the young mercenary sat on his favourite lounger. Despite his frequent visits to the Third Rail, he rarely spoke to anyone other than those who approached him with requests, and spent the entirety of his time in this private room. As usual he was adorning his duster, a magazine of ammunition wrapped around his left leg. In each pocket he held ammo for his weapons, all but one which rattled with the sound of bottlecaps. On his head he wore his green cap, two bullets lodged beneath a strip of material. His demeanour was intimidating, but against the two before him he looked almost non-threatening. If it weren't for his quick tongue and arrogance, he might have been over-looked as just another Goodneighbor reject.
"I was wandering how long it'd take your bloodhounds to track me down, Winlock. It's been almost three months, don't tell me you're getting rusty." MacCready rose to his feet, his height falling short against the upturned face of Winlock. "Should we take this outside?"

I stopped in my place, worried the fight about to take place would result in a punch to my own face. I'm finally free of bruises, it would suck to get a new one. Winlock's associate caught sight of me and pulled me into the fray, all eyes now on me. Winlock smirked, edging closer, his rough finger caressing my soft cheek. I winced against it before he took the bottle from my hands, reading its tattered label. 
"Looks like you brought in the good stuff, thanks MacCready." The two men sniggered, MacCready's cautious eyes on them and then me.
"I said, should we take this outside?" MacCready stepped closer towards Winlock, who handed me back the bottle, gestured to pour.
"This ain't like that. I'm just hear to deliver a message."

I'd filled the three glasses of whiskey, turning to leave the men to their business, but the other man grabbed my arm.
"She can go." MacCready said, concerned eyes meeting mine once again. 
"No," Winlock retorted, closing the door. "She can stay. Sit, pour our drinks, entertain us gentlemen while we discuss our business."

Ignoring them would result in them becoming hostile, and I'm certain MacCready would struggle to take the two of them on in close combat. So with my best nervous smile, I positioned myself beside Winlock and sat down in an armchair, keeping my ears open and eyes on the ground.

MacCready sighed, evidently frustrated. "In case you forgot, I left the Gunners for good."
The Gunners. That white skull. A high end mercenary group, far worse than any raider instalment. 
"Yeah, I heard. But you're still taking the jobs in the Commonwealth. That isn't going to work for us."
"I don't take orders from you, not anymore. So why don't you take your girlfriend and walk out of here while you still can." The young mercenary spat, his words fury.
"What?! Winlock, tell me we don't have to listen to this shit!" The other Gunner grew flustered, his face red with both embarrassment and rage. Winlock held up a hand, holding him back.
"Listen up, MacCready. The only reason we haven't filled your body with bullets is that we don't want a war with Goodneighbor. See, we respect other people's boundaries, we know how to play the game. It's something you never learned."
"Glad to have disappointed you."
Winlock released a deep, menacing chuckle, his grey narrowing eyes cool on the young man.
"You can play the tough guy all you want. But if we hear you're still operating in Gunner territory, all bets are off. You got that?"
"You finished?" 
"Yeah, we're finished. Come on Barnes, we got a submissive one waiting for us. What say you we take the rest of this bottle to this Hotel Rexford and have ourselves a little party eh?" Winlock turned back to me, disregarding all notice of MacCready. He grabbed at my arms and had me on my feet, my heart beginning to race as he pulled me closer towards him. Calloused hands found their way to my waist, his grip tight and uncomfortable. A small moan escaped my lips as I struggled to break free from his grasp.
"Hey, she's not up for the taking." MacCready placed a firm hand on Winlock's wrist, catching his ice cold glare. Barnes stepped closer, to warn the boy to back off.
"You think I care if she's not up for it? She's a whore, I'll give her a good time and leave her some caps. Come morning we'll be long gone and she can prepare herself for another night of riding some other pompous guy's dick. But tonight, she's ours." His hand was shaken off with arrogance. I was pulled away again, Winlock holding me in a tight vice and Barnes tailing with the bottle.
"No," I whined, my voice timid.
"I mean it, you can't have her." Persistent and seething with anger and annoyance, MacCready blocked the exit, his mind wondering what to say. "Because I've already put the deposit down."
"What? The hell are you talking about? We know how whores and their contracts work, no one pays deposits. Get lost." They went to push past him, but MacCready held his own, eyes flitting to meet the fear in my own with the promise of his trying.
"This girl does, she offers more than the others. Higher the demand, higher the price. She takes bookings, you want your time slot? Take it up with Charlie." Grabbing the whiskey from the hands of a shocked Barnes, MacCready squeezed me from under Winlock's grip and pulled me out of the room. Magnolia and Charlie's eyes met mine in a confused stare to which I offered a shrug. MacCready escorted me up the stairs and out of the Third Rail.

Amidst the cool breeze filling Scollay Square, a light rain began to fall from the clouded night sky. The young mercenary refused to let go of my hand as he pulled me further away from the lustrous vibe of the Third Rail, away from the aggravated Gunners and through the doors of the Hotel Rexford.

"Which room is yours?"
"What?" 
"Your room? Which one is it?"
"Uh, t-this one." I stuttered, pointing to the door just to the right on the top floor.
"Open it. Hurry." He commanded, and I fumbled for the key in my apron pocket. Placing it in the lock, I turned it, swinging the door open and leading him inside. Once we were both in, he took the key from me, closed the door and locked it once again.

My heart sank again, his bluff to the Gunners about to turn to reality. I sighed, turning my back and trembling. 
"You don't have to worry now, you'll be safe in here with me."
"Will it be on the bed?" I whispered, hugging myself.
"What?" I heard him turn, walk towards me. I wasn't aware of his intentions until his hand lifted my chin up to meet his eyes. He furrowed his brows the second he noticed the tears brimming in mine.
"W-will it be on the be-"
"No. I'm not here for that, Olivia. I just told them that so they couldn't do the horrible things they wanted to do to you." 
Against the thumping of my worried heart, and beneath the water threatening to spill from my eyes, I frowned. I wasn't aware he knew my name.
"Oh."
He sighed, removed his hat to run a hand through his matted brown hair. "Look, I'm sorry that you got dragged into this. They're both assho- ah, idiots. I just didn't want them to hurt you. If you're worried about what Charlie might say, I'll tell him what happened tomorrow. For now, you should get some sleep."
"What about you?" I asked, suddenly frightened of being alone. "Where will you go?"
He pointed to the chair at the foot of the bed. "I'll be right there. I don't care about spilling blood here, if either of those two goons step foot through this door I'll blow their goddamn heads off."