Dukov's Place

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

As the mirelurk crashed to the ground behind her, Ellen noted a little distantly that her hands were trembling. Probably not the best thing in the world to be doing, since she was still holding her shotgun, but- well. Mirelurk. Dead, but still. Right there. She'd come away from the circle of trucks, she'd made it past the raider encampment alive and without too many wounds, she'd stopped to catch her breath- and it'd been there. RIGHT there. RIGHT on top of her, all snapping claws and furious beady eyes. It was a mercy she hadn't lost an arm to the thing; as it was, she was going to have to pump herself up with two or three stimpaks at the very least...

Mr. Mills, she thought, would not be pleased at her carelessness.

She eased the shotgun back into its holster and slid her pack off, digging into it with her good arm and wincing at the feel of fresh blood. She was going to have to find some stuff worth selling soon, and someone to sell it to. Food wasn't much of an issue, but stimpaks were- hm. Well, maybe food wasn't all that much of an issue. Moira'd said mirelurk meat was supposed to be awfully nutritious, after all.

Once she'd bandaged up her arm, injected two stimpaks into the site, and waited for the accelerated healing to kick in, cracking the crab-thing further open and gouging out the meat was simple enough. Ellen was relieved not to find any organs she recognized. She was pretty sure she'd have had a fit if mirelurk innards resembled human in any way. Bad enough they were bipedal. How she was supposed to carry the meat she wasn't quite sure, but she eventually found her spare Vault jumpsuit and reluctantly wrapped it around the more viable lumps. She'd... just have to cook it and eat it first, that was all. Or something.

It occurred to Ellen that she could feel the fingers of exhaustion creeping up on her from all sides. There'd been a few filthy mattresses back at the raider encampment- but no; no. They probably had someone to stand guard, and she had no one. If she was going to pause long enough to eat for real, or sleep at all, it was going to have to be somewhere a lot more secure than this. For all she knew, there might not be anywhere safe to sleep until Rivet City- which was seeming a whole lot farther now than it ever had before, regardless of what her Pip-Boy map said. She fought the urge to scrub at her face with both hands (they were still stained with mirelurk gore, anyway) and pushed to her feet.

Up ahead, further along the river, she could make out what looked like a relatively intact building. Mindful of Springvale School, she crept forward cautiously, sniffing for that horrible carrion whiff on the wind- but there was nothing. Only the chemical tang of the river nearby. As she approached she saw that someone had fortified the front with scrap metal and sandbags, and a crudely painted sign (KEEP YOUR WEAPON HOLSTERED OR GET SHOT) hung from a post. She eyed it for a while, and finally holstered her shotgun. The laser pistol was a quick enough draw, and frankly, she really didn't think most of the raiders she'd seen could even read, let alone put up a sign like that. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door.

Whatever she'd been preparing for, it wasn't this. Inside was a riot of light and color, the walls festooned with strings of lights and the floor half-covered in rugs that almost looked new. Overhead a truly massive collection of lights burned, almost too bright to look at. She held up a hand to block the glare and caught sight of three human figures across the room. None of them seemed to be armed, or even hostile; cautiously she called out, "Hello?"

A man's booming laugh answered her. "Oh baby!" the tallest figure called out, stepping forward. "Let me get you something special! How about a Dukov Surprise, ah?"

Ellen blinked stupidly at him, dropping her hand. "Um," she said, puzzling the words out from his accent- it was like nothing she'd ever heard before. "What?"

"Never mind, you need a drink." He waved a hand negligently before calling out, "Cherry! How about some fucking booze over here?"

Ellen peered at the man a little more closely. He was bald, or at least shaven-headed, and wore what looked like pajamas out of some old vid! ... only most people who wore pajamas didn't usually carry guns, and he most certainly did. He was smiling, though, an easy, careless kind of look. It was the smile that gave Ellen the nerve to ask the first question that popped into her mind as she glanced over his shoulder at the two other figures: "Um. Sir? Who are those girls, and where are their clothes??"

It might not have been entirely politic to ask, she suddenly realized, given that this was this man's territory and that smile of his really didn't seem to reassure. He just laughed, though. "Ha! They're my party girls," he said. "I'm too much man for just one woman, so I need two. I wear them out every night! Why should they put it on when I'm just going to take it off, hah?"

Strictly speaking, the two women weren't naked- but given how short their flimsy pink dresses were, and how very nearly see-through, they might just as well have been. Ellen had never known anyone in the Vault to even possess something like that, let alone be willing to wear it. She averted her eyes quickly, glancing upward at the-

Um.

Good heavens.

Apparently the collection of lights was bulbs mounted in ... mesh. Strategically shaped and sculpted mesh. Shaped like two figures, specifically- two very enthusiastic figures.

"This is probably going to sound a little silly," she said very carefully, not knowing where would be safe to look next, "but... what are you doing all the way out here by yourselves?"

Please don't say the obvious, please don't say the obvious, she thought, but alas, it was not to be. The bald man laughed again. "Eating, drinking, farting, and screwing! Out here I can do whatever I like to whoever I want."

"Oh. That's... that's nice." Ellen managed a smile. "Sounds like a good setup."

"It works for me, baby!" He grinned. "You need to drink more. Go talk to the girls, hah?"

With that he wandered off, and Ellen found herself face to face with a dark-skinned woman only a little older than herself. At least, if her face was anything to go by. If there were any signs of age further south than her chin, Ellen did not want to know about it. "Hi," she said weakly.

The woman chuckled low in her throat. "Hi there," she said. "Name's Fantasia. You're not staying long, are you."

It wasn't a question, but Ellen shook her head anyway. "I was hoping to sleep in here," she said. "I... don't think I need to, though."

"You wouldn't get much sleep anyway. Dukey's not into that kind of thing."

Ellen suppressed a shiver. "Is that his name?"

"That's Dukov," said Fantasia. "If he's got a first name, he's never shared it with me. I don't ask, and he doesn't tell."

"Oh," said Ellen, scrambling for something else to say. "What's... Dukov? What's he like?"

"He's all right. He can be a real fun guy but he sure knows how to wear a girl out," said Fantasia with a slight smile. Looking Ellen's stained armor and still-bandaged arm over, she added, "Most of all, I'm safe here. I wouldn't pull out a weapon, even just to show him. He gets kind of paranoid about that. Don't get in a shooting match with him- he's really good."

"I'll remember that," Ellen promised. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," said Fantasia, heading off towards the nearby stairs.

Ellen shook her head a little and started to look for the door, but spotted the other woman first. She looked a little older, and had reddish hair that reminded her a little of Moira.

Given that she wore about as much as Fantasia, Ellen wished she hadn't thought that.

"You all right there?" the other woman asked, and the resemblance broke; her voice was older, rougher.

Ellen nodded, and found her own voice. "What is this place, anyway?"

The redhead shrugged. "It's, well... Dukov's place," she said. "Nothing special about it. Pretty much he does drinking and partying." As she said 'partying' she gestured at a low-slung, battered table nearby. It was covered in bottles that looked like they'd come from a dispensary and units of what might have been some kind of inhaler. Ellen had seen things like that in the raider camp, but hadn't wanted to touch an unknown medication. "Keeps him busy, at least some of the time."

"I see," said Ellen. "Um. I had no idea."

"Yeah, I figured." The redhead- she must have been the Cherry that Dukov addressed earlier, Ellen realized- nodded upwards. "Listen. Do yourself a favor. Keep right on moving, okay? He's all hands. He's a lecherous old man. The only reason I put up with him and his 'needs' is because I'm safe here."

Ellen swallowed, and the word she'd been trying not to say out of politeness slipped free: "So you're both whores, then?"

She flushed a bright scarlet as she realized she'd said it. Cherry didn't seem to notice. Her mouth just curved upwards in a brief, bitter smile. "Beats being dead," she said.

"... I'm so sorry," said Ellen. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I doubt it, kid," said Cherry. "Like I said. Do yourself a favor and just keep going."

"Okay," said Ellen. "Um. Good luck?"

"Thanks, kid."