Jacob Burns and the Order of the Algorithm #Wattys2017

Chapter 19: The Road to Ruin

Suddenly, one of the fighters broke free from his reverie and threw a devastating punch, catching his opponent off guard. The man's fist slammed into the other's skull, connecting with a sickening CRACK that sent him flying face-first into one of the caged arena's supporting metal posts.

THUMP

The man crumbled into a bloody heap on the stage floor, his head gashed open and knocked out into oblivion.

The room tensed. The whole crowd sat and stared at the hulk of a man now lying on the ground, their drug-addled brains barely able to process what had just happened. No one said a word, the room so quiet you could almost hear a pin drop...

Then, the room erupted into a sudden roar of whoops and hollers, the people jumping to their feet as they shouted with glee. They'd gambled big and won, and by the look on Hancock's face, that's exactly what he'd been hoping for.

And just like that, the mood eased. The music started up once again and the men returned to their drinks, counting their winnings as the stage was reset for the next match.

I followed Hancock as he stepped over the threshold, the raiders parting like the waters of the Red Sea as we made our way over to the bar, a rickety little shack slapped together down by the stage and stocked with some of the most irradiated booze I'd ever seen, all high enough proof to burn the balls off a bear...

Hancock ordered a drink from the surly-looking barkeep, who served it to him in a glass so filthy it made my skin crawl. Hancock, however, didn't seem to mind at all, chugging it down without a second thought and quickly ordering another. To my shock, he actually offered it to me with a yellow-toothed smile, but in an instant, my stomach turned sour. I shook my head furiously.

"Well, guess that just leaves more for me then!" He laughed at the look on my face, swallowing half the glass in one gulp before easing back into his chair, his beady eyes scouring the room for his contact. A part of me almost wanted to speak up, ask what the plan was and who we were waiting for, but before the words even left my mouth, he shook his head, a sharp warning to keep my mouth shut.

Suddenly, the voice of a woman startled me from behind, a voice so soft and sultry sweet I thought I must be hallucinating. How else could something so beautiful exist in such an ugly place as this?

"John-nee? My John-nee? Why, iz zat really you? Oh, it iz! It iz... My John-nee..."

I spun around to find a beautiful woman standing there, wearing a magnificent red evening gown that seemed to cling to her every curve as she approached Hancock with outstretched arms. She took the man into a loving and familiar embrace before kissing each of his rotting cheeks with a European flair.

"Oh my John-nee..." the woman said with a long deep sigh as she sat next to the ghoul, her eyes filled with longing as she leaned in to whisper more of that intoxicating accent into his ear.

"How long 'az eet been, darling? Far too long, I know zat much. Tell me, deed you come to listen to my next zet? I 'ave been working on a new song just for you, you know... Oh! Unless you are 'ere to take me back to Goodneighbor? Because, non! I cannot! Ze money, it iz too good here... Ze inspiration, too evocative! I could not possibly go now... Why, I do not think there is a single thing you could do zat could convince me... Do you?" She asked with another breathy whisper as her fingers trailed down his chest.

I didn't know what to do. I felt like a deer caught in the headlights, unable to look away no matter how hard I tried. It wasn't just that it was uncomfortable, either... because honestly, it just didn't make any sense! This woman looked like she had walked right off of an Old World movie screen, with that long black hair, those dark dusky eyes, and god, those ruby-red lips... she was every Wastelander's wet dream. So what the hell was she doing here? Let alone fawning over a ghoul like Hancock. The man was one ugly son of a bitch, like all ghouls, you could easily mistake him for something scraped off the side of the road on a hot summer's day. And that was being generous...