falloutkinkmeme_backup | Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

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Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

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When Vincent awoke, early in the morning since he never slept more than a few hours a night, he realised he was still alone in bed. He sat up, blinked a few times in mild confusion, and came to the conclusion that Tara probably had been too restless to find sleep, no surprise after a celebratory night spend drinking, eating and dancing; and all that being done and happening in her honour.

With a faint smile, Vincent remembered how she had opened the celebration. She had looked so grand, her long dark hair flowing down her back, wearing those official garments that made her look nothing short of royal. Yet as much a queen as she looked, Vincent thought a queen should not mingle that much, even if the celebration was solely in her honour. She should preside over the celebration, acknowledge the peoples’ happiness and accept their cheers and hails. A queen should not dance revelry and definitely not be in the middle of a knees-up with her subjects. Yet he knew that this was one thing he and Tara would never be able to agree upon.

He got up, dressed, and then discovered that everything in the kitchen was still exactly as the cleaners had left it the morning before. She hadn’t brewed herself a coffee, and that made Vincent frown. It wasn’t like Tara at all to start the day without at least two cups of the bitter brew.
She wasn’t anywhere in the suite, and as it turned out, she was nowhere else in the Lucky38, not in the cocktail lounge nor in the penthouse suite. He even checked the maintenance levels, to no avail.

He went down to the casino level, and when he couldn’t find her there, back up into the suite, by now with a feeling of irritation bordering on mild anger. Why would she leave him asleep like that? How could she go without him, leaving him in bed like an invalid? He needed to be at her side, for her sake as much as his own. Already he could feel the burning of shame, that he had been peacefully asleep while she had been up and about and had left the casino with him being completely oblivious.

With an angry frown he re-entered the suite and the bedroom, only to finally realize that her pillow was showing no dent, no sign that she had ever been to bed, and her garments were neatly draped across a chair. Vincent slowly crossed his arms and realised that during the last months, he had grown far too soft, comfortable and careless if he allowed himself to sleep like that, remaining completely oblivious of Tara changing her wardrobe and leaving the suite. He should have noticed. The shame began to burn as hot as the anger at himself by now.

But why had she gone in the first place, and without him? With a sigh Vincent ran a hand down his face, adjusted his eye patch, and then went into the kitchen where he had a glass of water and a handful of pinyon nuts. Then he armed himself and made his way downstairs again to look for her. If she was somewhere in Vegas then his failure as her protector and guard would already be apparent, so him running around the streets looking for her couldn’t make it any worse. Still, he did not want to cause a stir, so he kept his search as inconspicuous as he could, keeping a calm face and a busy appearance as to give the impression he was running some errands.

She wasn’t in any of the casinos, and enquiring discreetly in the Fort revealed that the Followers had neither seen nor heard of her coming to Freeside. It was just as Vincent was about to leave the Fort when outside the gates he heard the sounds of people gathering and shouting; then a woman screamed. Arcade shoved himself past Vincent to see what it all was about, but at that moment two men carried a body through the gate. Vincent stood aside, and felt a strange, cold sense of foreboding when he recognised the dead man: Cobra, the leader of the former Powder Gangers. And with that sensation came another one: What if Cobra’s sudden, violent death was somehow connected to Tara’s disappearance?

Vincent’s first, immediate reaction was a fit of hot jealousy and he hurriedly slammed a mental door in the face of that feeling. Rage would get him nowhere and only cloud his judgement. And had he not sworn to himself that if she would at any given point chose herself another man, he would bear it like he had everything else before? After taking a deep breath he asked one of the farmers who had brought the body in where they had found him, and the man took him to the place, outside the city gates and atop the low mound of rubble covered with earth and sand that ringed the city. Vincent thanked the man and examined the spot.

There was a large blotch of blood in the sand where Cobra’s body had been lying, and kneeling down, Vincent could see no traces of kicked-up dust or scrapes of fingers that would have indicated death throes, so he had died very quickly. Since there had been several people running around the spot after finding the body any footprints that could have given him a lead were long gone, but he still trained his eyes on the ground in the hopes of finding anything; only what, he couldn’t say.

His patience was rewarded when after a few minutes, he saw, a few feet away from the place where Cobra had died and downward on the slope of the fortification, another set of tracks.

Several pairs of feet having trampled down dried grass.

Something large and heavy being dragged along.

A few drops of dried blood and beside them a stone, about the size of a fist, with a trace of blood on it.

More footsteps, leading away from the city, fainter already as they moved out of the lee of the fortification.
Vincent knew he need not follow them, once out in the open desert they would long since have disappeared, covered by the relentless desert wind and the dust it carried.
And then something else caught his eye: the sheen of something metallic in the dust a few steps away.
He knelt down and wiped his fingers across it, and at the same moment, his heart froze in his chest.

Before him in the dust, attached to a torn leather string and mounted in its frame of copper wire, was the Platinum Chip.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Noooo- I wasn't readddddyyyy.

I knew as soon as she said "don't wait up" that some shit was going down, but that last bit still killed me. I can see why a larger sock would be in order, I'd seriously like to do some bludgeoning right about now.

Who's taken her?
Why'd she leave the suite by herself in the first place? Like did someone threaten her (and if so what would they even use as a threat) or just ask her? Or was she just trying to let Vince sleep in?

Things are definitely starting to get even more interesting. This cliffhanger might be the death of me, but worry not, I'll bring myself back to life so I can read the next chapter.

~BA!Anon

If all the cliffhangers are like this one, I'll wear the print off my F5 key.

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Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

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