[The next morning]
There was an uneasy peace in the air, and not many words were said. Jackson had unfucked one problem, but there were still two more for which he had to swallow his pride and face the music, and his gut churned at the very notion as he walked across the open space of the hangar toward the kitchen. The smells of scrambled synthetic eggs and whatever starch passed for hashbrown potatoes wafted out, causing his mouth to water amid the personal conflict in his own head.
As he approached the open door, he took a second to collect himself, stopping several paces short. His rock-bottom opinion of himself notwithstanding, he hated being seen by the crew as he was yesterday. He tried always to put his best foot forward and be strong for their sake, but he was still just a man; still prone to stumble and falter. But that's what family was about, having the people around to help you up. No man can be an island unto himself.
The hell wit' it..., Jackson thought as he swallowed the knot in his throat and pushed forward. As he crossed the threshold, he saw all four of them sitting around the table, not a word said between them among the clatter of utensils against dishes. Addie was the first to notice, her face going blank with a mouthful of food as her eyes burned through him like cigarettes. He knew the look well enough to keep his mouth shut, and he took a step in and to the side as they locked eyes. She was in no mood, and she kicked back the chair, standing with her plate in one hand, cup of coffee in the other, and left the room without so much as a nod to anyone else. The same sweet scent followed in her wake, the dangling tags echoing off.
Bison followed her carefully, waiting until she was out of earshot before he turned to Jackson, "Shit, hoss... you sure have a hell of a way with women."
Jackson tried not to smirk, the gravity of the situation weighing heavy on his mind, but he couldn't help notice Jayce trying to hide her own smile, her cheeks beet red as she lost that battle. The only face he couldn't read was Doc Strong's, sitting with his back to the door. He stepped forward, carefully testing the waters as he placed a firm hand on Strong's sculpted shoulder. In an instant, at least one worry was quelled as Strong reached up and bumped his hand with a closed fist as if to say, It's all good, brother.
They'd been through more shit together than either of them cared to remember, and there were few people in the world who could knock Jackson back in line when he needed it most. Strong was at the top of that list.
Jackson tried his luck as he took Addie's seat at the table, looking around to all three pairs of eyes staring back. He turned to Strong, placing his palm flat on the table, an unmistakable metal clink sounding from underneath. He slid his palm forward slowly, wearing a warm and sincere smile as he said, "Thank you, Joshua..."
He pulled his hand back, leaving the same coin from yesterday face-up on the table. It took Strong a few seconds to react, having just shoveled another mound of food in his mouth, but he returned the smile as he picked up the coin and put it back in his pocket, hoping he'd never have to pull it out again as he said, "Any time, brother... glad you came around"
Bison kept to himself, having already taken his shot, and so Jackson looked across the table to Jayce, marveling more and more everyday at how much of Aiyana he saw in her. She looked up, giving a light smile as she picked at her food with a fork before taking a small bite. Someone had to say something, so Jackson took the initiative, "Anyone seen the girl yet?"
There was a collective shaking of heads, and Jayce answered as she swallowed her bite of food, "...think she's got a name...?"
That was a question for the ages, and Jackson exhaled with raised eyebrows, "I uh... I don' rightly know... hell, we know she can talk, so maybe all's it takes is aski—"
"Shrapnel", the voice boomed from the doorway, catching everyone off guard as Jackson and Joshua both jumped in their seats. All eyes cut to the door, finding the girl standing there with shoulders sagged and arms crossed. Jackson raised his eyebrows and asked, "...shrapnel...?"
The girl shifted forward, dragging one foot and then the other, cautious of her surroundings like the walls would crash in on her at any moment. She nodded, "That's what they called me..."
All present crew were wide-eyed and not really sure of what to say next. Jayce took the opportunity to get up from her chair, taking her plate over to the pans sitting on the stove as she said, "Ya hungry?"
The girl's eyes cut to her for a moment before looking back down as she nodded. Jayce smiled, kicking the leg of the chair as she said, "Well c'mon an' have a seat... I'll fix you a plate."
The girl looked up to Jackson, his face showing no emotion. She couldn't get a read on him, and he couldn't get a read on her, but he nodded anyway, motioning with his hand to the empty seat. She was careful in each step, not knowing what she expected, but before these people and this place, any step out of turn was met with punishment. She was scarred, scared, and her body language didn't even try to hide it. Doc Strong tried to reassure her, his booming voice low and gentle, "It's okay, kid. Take a seat."
The girl leaned down, balancing herself against the edge of the table as she scooted back into the chair. Every bit of it was foreign to her, but there was something warm in all of it. Bison took his chance as he leaned in, "You did good on the bag yesterday... that was fun to watch."
It was Jackson's turn to ruin the moment as he sipped from Bison's cup, "Yeah until I showed up."
"Ah, that thorny exterior is why we love you, hoss...", Bison snatched his cup back with a chuckle, "Can't help you with the blunder down under, though..."
Jackson sucked his teeth and chuckled along with everyone else before he locked eyes with the girl sitting across from him. She was blank, no expression on her face except fear; fear of the unknown. The least he could do was try and include her as he leaned in, "So... Shrapnel... that's your name?"
The girl looked down at the table before looking up again as she nodded, to which Jackson continued, "Well that jus' won't do. Shrapnel hurts people, causes pain an' discomfort... an' you're not here to hurt anyone... are you?"
Everyone's assholes clenched, the girl's eyes narrowing as they did the same song and dance from the night before. Over the girl's shoulder, Jayce turned her head just enough, her eyes wide as she read the room while scooping eggs and 'potatoes' onto the plate. Jackson smiled, his eyes never once leaving the girl as he followed up, "How's 'bout Nel...? That's a short 'n sweet name."
"Or Nellie...?", Bison chimed in, to which the girl looked at him like he had two heads. Something about Nellie didn't sit right with her, but she looked back to Jackson with the corners of her mouth cracking. She was trying to smile in her own way as she nodded, "I like Nel..."
Jayce appeared from her right side, setting the plate down in front of her and making the mistake of placing a gentle hand on her shoulder as she said, "We like Nel, too... 's long 's you can behave."
Nel instinctively jerked away from the soft touch as she looked up to Jayce, finding nothing but a kind smile and a rosy flush in her cheeks. Deep in her mind, she knew she was safe here, but a simple smile wasn't about to fix a lifetime of trauma. Still, she tried her best to let it happen as she relaxed in the chair. Jayce had already pulled her hand back with a whispered, "...sorry..."
Awkward moment aside, Nel tried to shake it off as she grabbed for the food in front of her, piling it into her mouth as quickly as possible. Not likely she'd learn to use a fork anytime soon, and Jayce took the chance as she pointed to herself and everyone sitting at the table, "Well... I'm Jayce... the rugged sum'bitch to your left is Bison, Doc Strong is on your right... don' let 'is size fool ya, he's sweet as a teddy bear."
Jackson flashed a smile as Jayce locked eyes with him, "And that ol' cowboy 'cross the table 's Jackson... my dad."
Bison interjected between a mouthful of food, "And that fine specimen of tall, blonde, and beautiful you probably saw stomping away is Addie..."
Jackson pushed his luck again, trying to change the subject as he kicked Bison under the table, "Well... if you're goin' to stick around, we'll have to put you to work."
"Pa!", Jayce chastised him with a scoff, causing Bison and Strong both to laugh as he smiled, "We all have to pull our weight, kiddo... maybe she can help ya rebuild that crotch-rocket you've been pourin' over the last few weeks."
The hand was dealt, Jackson's cards on the table; he was trying to help the girl fit in by giving her something to do other than sitting in her cell or shredding another one of Bison's bags. Still, it amused him to no end that he could still pull one over on his own daughter.
Nel couldn't help but be curious, pausing with a mouthful of food as she muddled the words, "C-Crotch... rocket?"
"Yeah, we found an old motorcycle off the highway 'bout a month or so back...", Jackson obliged her curiosity with a sigh, "Kid here's been tryin' like hell to get it runnin' again."
Nel's eyes lit up at the word motorcycle as Jayce teased her old man, "He thinks 's a lost cause, but he taught me everythin' I know, so 's as much his failure as mine."
He feigned a sad face with a chuckle as Jayce walked around the table and gave him a hug, embracing him tightly with a kiss on the crown of his head. Nel's eyes were glued to the two of them, like she longed for what they had. There was a sadness in her eyes in that moment, and Jayce caught a glimpse of it, almost wishing she could embrace the girl without likely inducing a panic attack.
She stuck with what she had, letting go of Jackson as she turned for the door and said, "Finish up an' I'll meet ya out there... Nel."
The girl's eyes followed her just long enough to raise Bison's eyebrows, but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut with the old man in the room. She knew he knew, and her head dipped down as she continued shoving food in her mouth, but the burn in her cheeks was obvious. She was dead to rights.
--
The hangar was oddly empty on account of Addie having taken Sheila for a late-morning hop. By Bison's reckoning, she took off shortly after breakfast and hadn't been back since. Jackson could only hope she was blowing off steam and might be in better spirits, or at least in the mood to talk, when she returned. In the meantime, he gave Doc Strong a hand in trying to replace the doors to the infirmary, wishing to whoever was listening that he had a netrunner in the crew to wire everything up. He didn't know how half this shit worked, and he honestly didn't care. He was an okay electrician when he needed to be, but when it came to all the interconnected crap in the world, he was just as happy to have his revolver and get down and dirty in the sand, which is how their encounters on the job usually went anyway.
It was a simpler life, and he came from a simpler time, or so he thought. He was born in the latter days of the Red, into a broken world just starting to heal from the atrocities of the Fourth Corporate War. While cyberware and implants had been a daily fact of life for almost half a century by that point, growing up as a dirt-poor rancher in the Free Republic of Texas didn't afford many options outside of the basic neural interfaces required for holo-calls and personal links, and Jackson was already an adult before he ever chipped in. The first real chrome came in his mid twenties by way of Arasaka providing weapons and technology to the Free States to aid in their fight against the NUSA during the Unification War; and all that amounted to was Kiroshi combat-model cyberoptics, muscle and reflex boosters, and a standard NBC hazmat filter.
Jackson took all of it in stride as just part of the job until a lucky fragmentation mine embedded in a concrete T wall outside Ridgecrest quite literally blew him in half. The damages amounted to his entire left arm, shoulder, ribcage, lung and lower torso, and his entire left leg including the hip. In a comedic stroke of irony, his manhood was left entirely intact, which was nothing short of a miracle by Doc Strong's reckoning as he pieced the poor bastard back together. The first few months in the waning days of the war were a shock, especially readjusting to home life. They'd both seen some harrowing shit, but trying to transition back to being a civilian when half of your 'ganic body was painted over broken concrete and asphalt... suffice to say that Strong considered it yet another miracle that Jackson hadn't gone cyberpsychotic.
It wasn't uncommon for soldiers with PTSD and having undergone massive implant operations to lose what little humanity they had left. Nobody forced the chrome on Jackson, not like some horror stories coming out of the City of what the Maelstrom did to their victims; but even in the attempt to save a soldier's life, the sheer amount of chrome he had implanted posed both physical and mental hurdles. Thankfully, he had his family to help pull him out of his own mind and find the path again... for a time. Had it not been for Jayce, Strong fully suspected losing Aiyana would have been the breaking point for Jackson, and one might argue he wasn't the same since then. Not that anyone could blame him, but there was a marked change in his personality after coming back to El Norte.
Despite the persisting rumors about him and the atrocities committed by his unit during the War... which Addie didn't necessarily believe but was happy to remind him of recently... Doc Strong was the first to defend Jackson as having been cool, calm, and compassionate in every decision he made in their time together during the great unpleasantness. He was colder since returning from Juarez, and his handling of Scavs and Raffen Shiv pointed to a more cruel and calculating demeanor beneath the surface of his patented smirk and rugged southern charm. They weren't people to him, but that was an opinion shared by most anyone unfortunate enough to cross paths with either gang. So for better or worse, Jackson fit right in with the denizens of Night City, even as far removed from the urban sprawl as they were.
Back to the task at hand, Jackson snapped himself to the present as he strained against the guide rails to force one of the doors onto its track. The sweat was set, soaking the hemmed henley collar of his shirt with a large streak running down the back of the off-white fabric. It was getting hotter outside, the metal exterior of the hangar radiating the heat inward as the air-conditioning systems struggled to keep up. If something didn't give soon, Jackson resolved that he might have to take five to nurse his nasty habit; out of respect for Strong, he tried his best to never smoke inside or around the vicinity of the infirmary. The good doctor worked hard to keep his space clean, and tar and cigarette ash went a long way towards fucking that up.
Jackson was about on the verge of throwing in the towel before he heard a subtle click, all the resistance of the door giving way as he almost lost his footing. He just managed to catch himself as the door slid back and forth effortlessly along its guide rails, and he gave a heavy sigh of relief as he took a knee and looked up to Strong flashing a rare wide smile, "Smooth move, boss..."
With almost no outward effort, Strong fitted his door into the rails, maneuvering it back and forth as Jackson laughed, "Fuckin' show-off..."
"C'mon, man, go take five...", Strong ushered him, "...I got it from here."
Jackson nodded as he pulled himself up, giving a heavy hand to Strong's shoulder as he turned. He was met with Nel standing a few feet away, her eyes fixed on the new doors as her shoulders sagged. Her eyes fell to the floor, her face masked with something... sorrow, maybe? He couldn't quite get a read on her, but her mouth trembled like she wanted to say something. He was cautious, but he cracked a smile as he nodded and said, "It's okay..."
Nel brought one arm over the other, rubbing up and down as her eyes met Jackson's and the corner of her mouth twitched. She didn't know how to describe what she felt in that moment, much less put it into audible words, but it wasn't like anything she had felt before. There was no fear of retribution or punishment, just this longing regret that she couldn't shake, and yet she didn't understand why they weren't angry. She didn't understand any of it.
She was snapped back to the present as Jackson looked past her with a warm smile, and she turned to see Jayce standing next to her, holding a gear in one hand and a rag in the other as she said, "C'mon, you're wit' me..."
Nel looked back to Jackson as he tipped his head in the direction Jayce was walking, and she turned to catch up. Jackson's eyes tracked the both of them for several seconds as he pulled a crumpled softpack from his shirt pocket and shook loose a single cigarette, grabbing it between his lips with a deep exhale. Not that he needed reminding, but Doc Strong gave a playful shove to his shoulder and said not so playfully, "Outside."
Jayce led the way to her shop, rattling off about all the things she'd tried so far to get the bike running. Nel didn't understand a word of it, but she was enraptured nonetheless as she followed like a lost puppy; mostly she was admiring the sculpted lines of Jayce's neck, shoulders and arms, trying to get a closer look at the tattoos. Her host was cut and lean, and yet soft where it mattered most. Something in the sway of her hips was almost hypnotizing, and Nel stumbled to keep from running right into the back of Jayce as she stopped abruptly and turned. She had a smirk on her face as she watched the girl trying to pull herself together and joked, "Hey, y'okay? Don't trip o'er your own two feet, now..."
Nel stood up straight, embarrassed as she nearly spat, "Fine."
She could tell Jayce didn't buy it, but she got off easy as she was handed the same gear and rag, "Here. Start workin' on cleanin' all these to a polish. Only thing I ain't tried yet's a full teardown an' rebuild... maybe we find somethin' lurkin' in the nooks 'n crannies."
To Jayce's point, one entire workbench was covered in stripped down engine parts like pieces of a puzzle waiting to be put together, the bare frame of the motorcycle strapped to a small scissor lift nearby. Each individual component was covered in some combination of soot and gunk, and they all smelled terrible, like heavy metals and raw onions. Jayce took her place for a moment next to Nel, picking up a part and another rag as she demonstrated the process, "Jus' like this... nice an' easy... use a finger at a time to dig in these tiny crevices..."
She worked in and out, holding the rag up to show the putrid tarry substance as she continued, "This right here... 's got to go... think ya can handle that for me?"
Nel nodded, taking the rag she already had in her hand as she considered where to start. Jayce turned, walking towards the bare frame as she grabbed a few sheets of sandpaper before asking, "So... ya really don' talk much, do ya?"
The girl already had her first part picked out, but she stopped scrubbing for a second as her eyes cut to Jayce. She saw the same kind eyes staring back her way as she looked down again and continued working, "No point..."
"How's that...?", Jayce turned, genuinely curious, "From what I hear, you're one of a pack, right?"
Nel looked up, then back down, her eyes giving away her reaction, "I'm not an animal..."
"I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that...", Jayce tried to backpedal, "But, there were... others... like you? You didn't talk?"
Nel scrubbed harder, her face wearing the agitation she felt in being questioned, "We're trained to fight... to do as we're told... no room for talking."
Her voice started to shake as she tried to force the words, "S-Speaking... o-out of turn... b-breeds disobedience... p-punishment..."
Jayce could feel the energy given off, and she tried to break the tension as she joked, "Some family, huh? Treatin' y'all more like property 'an people."
Nel dropped the part on the bench with a heavy thud, catching Jayce by surprise as she spun back around. She saw the girl fighting something inside, her free hand reaching up to the back of her neck. Jayce hated herself for prying, but she asked anyway, "W-Who did that to you? W-Why...?"
"Clan law...", Nel explained with no inflection in her voice, "Girls are all marked when we're old enough..."
Jayce felt her stomach churn, only imagining what the girl had suffered in her relatively short time. She was branded, treated like livestock, and God knows what else. There was so much pain and hurt in her expression as she resumed cleaning the parts, scrubbing even harder than before. Jayce had a hundred more questions, but she could read Nel's face well enough to know it was better to not ask. And so she turned back to sanding down the motorcycle's frame, a tear forming in her eye for their new choom's sake.
--
Despite the brutal sun overhead, there was a pleasant breeze, so as far as Jackson was concerned, standing in the shade of the open hangar doors overhead was tall cotton as he took a deep drag, exhaling smoke through his nose. A small part of him wondered if Addie was actually coming back, or if he'd done enough damage for her to cut her losses... and he admonished himself for what he'd said. He knew better, and he hoped she knew that he knew better.
As quick as the doubt settled in his mind was it already gone as he spit into a small pile of sand. Addie wouldn't do that to the rest of the crew, not if she sat down to breakfast with them only a few hours earlier. Still, he hoped the bridge wasn't burnt between them. She was a good member of the crew, her crass humor and upbeat attitude always keeping spirits high. But it was more than that... he cared for her, a lot; more than he was comfortable admitting. Jayce could read him like an open book despite his best effort to hide it. If anyone could steal his heart all the way out here... what would Aiyana think...?
Jackson looked down as he wrestled with his own thoughts before a distant sound coming over the ridge caught his attention. Engines thrusting and maneuvering, the pulsing rhythm of rotor blades cutting the air against grains of sand kicked up in their wake; tall, blonde, and beautiful was making her approach, and as he'd come to admire, it was as silky and smooth as her voice in the early mornings. Jackson smiled wide as he watched the aerodyne closing in before the moment was ruined in its entirety by an incoming holo-call ringing in his head as his eyes flashed orange.
He let it ring for a few seconds while he enjoyed another drag before he answered, "I ain't killin' anymore kids for ya this week, 'Kota..."
"I didn't ask you to kill the last one, Jax... sure as shit wasn't going to stop you, though...", Dakota's voice was dry and unamused, "...got a call, could use some muscle. Got a minute?"
"For you?", Jackson prodded and poked, "Hell, I got three. Whatcha got?"
"Ever the snake charmer...", Dakota fired back, "Got some local color happening at the Sunset Motel... couple o' drunk 6th Street gonks by the sound of it..."
"An' you'd like us to step in an' give 'em what-for...", Jackson chuckled, unsurprised to say the least, "...that 'bout cover it?"
"It's like you know me...", Dakota answered with a scoff, "Folks there would like to minimize casualties if possible... I know you can be delicate when you want to be."
Jackson smirked as he considered his response, sidestepping the subtle jab altogether, "If 's 6th Street, likely they's already run off any bystanders. Should jus' be us an' them in a good ol' fashioned Mexican standoff..."
"Careful, cowboy... don't fuck the place up too much", Dakota joked, "Thinking you and Bison... ten G's each. Let me know when it's done."
The call dropped without so much as a goodbye, leaving Jackson marveling to himself, ever amused at his increasingly snarky banter with their beloved Badlands fixer. Addie was nearly home, the fuselage of the aerodyne in plain view... and yet she wasn't slowing down. Why wasn't she slowing down?
Jackson was suddenly on edge, almost frozen in place and not sure what to expect. Addie was never this reckless unless she had no other choice... unless she was being shot at. And yet she was swooping in low, the turbines howling and her speed increasing as more sand kicked up behind her. She was on the homestretch as Jackson's eyes went wide, and at the very last possible second, she jerked back on the cyclic pitch, the tail dipping as she rotated around to show her broad side. The aerodyne looked as though it were digging its heels in as it abruptly halted into a hover no more than ten feet off the ground. The sheer force of the maneuver sent a wall of sand blowing in Jackson's direction, and he was covered head-to-toe before he could brace himself.
Addie eased up, moving Sheila to her right as she gently set the aerodyne down on the concrete, the heavy tires of the landing gear compressing under the weight. With the flip of a switch, the rotor speed gradually decreased, the engines winding down and giving way to the ambient sounds of the wind blowing. The loading doors spanning the side of the aerodyne opened out, providing a ramp on which Addie gracefully exited the interior as she pulled off her flight helmet, shaking her hair loose with a deep sigh of relief as she looked up and all around before turning back to her one true love. She gently placed her hand against the hull, a light smile on her face before she zeroed all emotion and turned to walk towards Jackson.
He stood there with his teeth in his mouth, sand covering every inch of him as his hair was blown back, lit cigarette still hanging from his mouth. He carefully opened his eyes with a few grains of sand falling loose as he heard the soft crash of Addie's boots approaching. She stopped side-by-side with him, her eyes staring straight ahead. He didn't really know what to say, but he managed to muscle out anyway, "So... still mad?"
Addie gave him an eye roll with a scoff and a hip check as she grabbed the cigarette from his mouth, taking a deep drag as she walked into the open interior of the hangar. Jackson chuckled and shook loose as much sand as he could before turning to follow. He was sure he had a ways to go at making it up to her, starting with actually apologizing, but this wasn't nothing.
Addie's path was set as she walked in a straight line towards Jayce. Jackson couldn't really explain why, but he kept following, only a few paces behind. As they approached, Addie called out gleefully, "Would ya look'it that! Li'l lassie's a natural, ain't she?"
Jayce smiled as she looked back to Nel having finished polishing almost every part laid out on the bench, and her eyes cut to Addie as she burst out laughing; Jackson was standing behind, still with a face full of sand and grit, and Jayce couldn't help herself as she teased, "Guess you two made up, then?"
Jackson glared as Addie giggled herself into a fit, "Somethin' like that..."
Once Addie was able to pull herself back together, she knelt down and admired the handiwork on the bike's frame, running a soft finger along the gritty finish before she asked, "Could use your help outside, love... spell a minute?"
Jayce looked back to Nel hard at work, considering her answer before she turned to Addie and nodded, "Sure, jus' le'me finish up here, an' I'll meet ya out there."
She turned to Nel again as she pointed across the way and said, "Hey, good work on all this, I really 'preciate it... if ya need to wash up, showers 's over yonder. I won' be long..."
Nel stopped for a few seconds, meeting Jayce's eyes as she said nothing, only giving a subtle nod. Jackson took it as his cue to cut in, "Well, guess she'll be okay on her own for a bit... Ol' Lady called. Where's Bison?"
"Oooh, we got work?", Addie perked up as Bison appeared from seemingly thin air, to which Jackson nodded and tried to hide his startle, "Yeah... some jarheads causin' a ruckus at the Sunset, could use our delicate touch to give 'em a boot."
"Oi, I love roughing up a drunk gonk...", Addie flashed a devilish smile, "...give 'em a good smack for me, eh?"
"Yeah, promises...", Jackson quipped as he turned to leave, "Anyhow, hol' it down for a few, we won' be long."
Jayce gauged for a response, watching Addie's eyes follow her old man the whole way out of the hangar. Once he and Bison were finally out of sight, she looked down, her cheeks rosy red before she sighed and turned back to Jayce, "R-Ready, yeah?"
Jayce smirked as she leaned provocatively over the frame of the bike, arms crossed as her face held no secrets, "Ready when you are, babe..."
--
[One hour later - Sunset Motel, Rocky Ridge, the Badlands]
As monotonous as life in the desert could be, Jackson always jumped at the chance for a little action. Bison too, judging by the grin painted on his face beneath the scarf since they left the base. It was a simpler life, although Jackson sometimes joked they were little more than Badlands lawkeepers for the Old Lady. Still, she paid well for that privilege, and they weren't turning their nose up at any chance to keep the lights on and the water running. If only they had a shiny little badge to complete the charade...
As much as Jackson enjoyed driving by himself with the wind in his hair, having company along for the ride was good for his state of mind, even if it was the dyed-in-the-wool wiseass nomad currently occupying his passenger seat. A little cut-up never hurt anyone, and they'd been laughing for most of the ride. Finally, with all the little stuff out of the way, Bison pulled down his scarf, his face long and serious as he asked the first real question on their little voyage, "So... you an' Addie patch things up?"
Jackson smirked as he fished a stubborn bit of leftover sand from his ear with his little finger and said with a sigh, "I uh... it will be... you saw her li'l maneuver, I take it?"
Bison laughed, smiling from ear to ear, which told Jackson all he needed to know. Still, after a moment, the slightly younger merc looked down at the floorboards between his legs, "Feel free to tell me to shove off, hoss, but... what happened yesterday...?"
"Nah... you 'ave as much a right as anyone t'ask...", Jackson exhaled deep with a low grumble, "Dakota's boys had a half-dead scav up on chains, said he was the sole survivor of a rowdy-dow gone wrong between his outfit, Wraiths, and our girl's... handlers..."
"Holy shit...", Bison spat, eyes wide as he looked to Jackson, "The fuck are they doing in town?!"
Jackson shook his head, "Near's I could tell, Wraiths wan'to consolidate the flesh trade... power moves or some such. Scav was mostly ramblin', but he was shook up somethin' fierce by our girl. Said she got spooked, broke loose o' her restraints and unleashed holy hell on all of 'em before they had a chance."
Bison whistled loudly, his eyebrows raised, "And that sum'bitch was unlucky enough to get away clean, only to face off with you at the end of it all...?"
The older merc's face hardened as he confessed, "When it was all said an' done, I went to a dark place... y'all are all I have, an' knowin' we have a livin' weapon in our midst, I—"
"I get it, hoss... ya don't have to explain yourself to me of all people", Bison reassured him, "I get where the Doc stepped up to reel you back in, but what happened with Addie?"
Jackson physically cringed at himself even recalling his own behavior, "I was way out'a line... only way out I saw was puttin' the kid down... and I made a few sideways comments 'bout Addie not knowin' what it was like down in the dirt wit' the rest of us..."
Bison couldn't help but nervously laugh, "Jesus, you sure have a way with words..."
"Don't I know it...", Jackson chuckled as he eased up, "Still have to properly apologize, I reckon... but we're good for the moment."
"I hope so...", Bison looked down again, "...the kids don't like seeing Mom and Dad fight—"
Jackson burst out laughing as he reached over and punched his younger choom's arm, "You cut out that horseshit right now, ya hear?!"
"C'mon, man...", Bison tried to avoid the onslaught as he shifted in his seat and laughed back, "We all see how you two look at each other... one of these days..."
Even in the open air of the Colby with the wind in their faces, there was no hiding the flush in Jackson's cheeks, and so he kept to himself, down-shifting before returning both hands to the wheel as he changed lanes. Through the poor visibility of the afternoon dust storm, the Sunset Motel was in their sights, only a hundred feet away.
Jackson down-shifted again, hoping anyone behind him was smart enough to keep their distance as his favorite stripped down rover had no indicator lights. The engine purred smoothly in third gear as he merged off the main stretch of I-9, checking for oncoming traffic before cutting across both lanes to catch the exit. The strip motel sat in the sand as it always had, it's puke-orange walls and teal roof sticking out like a sore thumb amid the expansive nothingness surrounding it on all sides. Where Jackson was used to seeing cars and people coming and going, the parking lot was eerily empty, save for a single Villefort Columbus panel van bearing 6th Street colors parked across three spots down in front. Even the self-service garage off to the left was completely devoid of life, and Jackson always remembered a particular small-arms dealer parked outside selling her various wares; but not today.
Bison already had his hand cupped over his shoulder holster as he surveyed the scene. The only live bodies in sight were two heavily tattooed and heavily inebriated gangers, and two hang-arounds hanging all over them. For lack of a better term, the two pieces of ass looked ready to party, and the gangers looked happy to have them in tow. Jackson used this to his advantage as he pulled off to the side several spots down, trying to not draw too much attention.
He gently engaged the parking brake on the Colby, killing the ignition as he scanned the exterior. So far, just the two gangers, but he had to assume there were more inside the bar on the second floor. As if to read his thoughts, Bison leaned in, pinging a direct holocall, "Any chance the old lady gave us a body count?"
"For the gangers or for the two bunnies hangin' all o'er 'em...?", Jackson joked before shaking his head, "Nah, all's she said was jump."
Bison flashed his teeth, enjoying the boss's calm under pressure in the face of what they were up against. He took a chance as he opened his door and said, "Yeehaw?"
Jackson flashed a middle finger as he followed suit, pulling himself up and out of the car. He took a moment to stretch his back every which way with a few low groans as his younger partner asked, "Y'okay, Jax?"
"Promise me you'll ne'er grow old, Bison...", Jackson fired back as he straightened himself up and started walking, "Nice an' slow, keep it casual..."
"Yeah, sure...", Bison obliged with a snarky inflection, "We're just two morons out for a drink in the dead heat."
Jackson smirked as they took each step in stride, trying to appear as casual and nondescript as possible. Granted, with a revolver strapped to his hip, Jackson stuck out worse than the Motel itself, but it also wasn't uncommon to see regular people in Night City open-carrying some type of personal protection. Just take each step as it comes..., he thought to himself.
Before long, they were only a few paces away from the drunk gangers, who seemed entirely disinterested in paying them any heed, not that either merc could blame them. With raging hard-ons and faces full of chromed cleavage, Jackson and Bison both probably wouldn't care about anything else either. They passed by with little resistance, giving a wide berth as they ascended the stairs to the second floor. They stopped for a spell, both looking at each other and trying not to laugh at the situation. They could only hope it was this easy all the way around, and yet these simple jobs always had a way of going south at the worst possible moment.
Bison wasn't opposed to a good dust-up, always willing to throw down any day of the week, but Jackson was hoping he wouldn't have to call on Doc Strong to put him back together if push came to shove. He'd pushed his luck enough over the last twenty-four hours.
As they approached the open double doors to the bar's entrance, the other gangers' raucous voices trailed out. They were having themselves a hell of a time by the sound of it, the radio blaring one of Night City's numerous hard rock stations. The music wasn't bad by any means, albeit loud enough to rattle your skull, but the carrying-on of the gangers was enough to drive anyone to the edge of irritable unpleasantness.
Jackson firmed himself as he pushed forward to stand in the doorway, allowing several seconds to pass as he sized up the situation. Four bodies that he could count, plus Noah behind the bar, and there wasn't much else in his line of sight. A few tables and chairs had been up-ended, but as the gangers carried on among themselves between the bar and the booths, not one of them took notice of their new guest, prompting Jackson to call out, "HOWDY FELLAS!"
The clamor ceased, all eyes turning towards the entrance as one of the gangers subtly reached over and dialed back the radio, the sounds receding into the background. Suddenly, all was quiet along the western front as Jackson's eyes shifted between all four gangers. He was looking at the bad, the ugly, the worse, and the absolutely unspeakable, stifling his own laughter amid the tension in the air. He could almost hear the cheesy whistling cowboy music in his own head. Even the two drunk gangers in the parking lot had taken notice, making their way up the stairs as they were met with Bison blocking their path with nothing but a smile to offer, his hand gripping his iron as he stared them both down and whispered with a wink, "Private party, boys..."
"Y'know, las' I recall... this joint belonged to that real handsome bastard behind the bar...", Jackson shrugged his eyebrows with a cheeky smile, "And ain't a one o' ya a distant cry for that chiseled face..."
Nervous as Noah was, holding court behind the bar and trying his damndest to stay out of the way, he couldn't help but smirk at Jackson's brass. Although he wouldn't feel right until the present altercation was done and over with, he could breathe a little easier knowing he wasn't left to fend for himself. Dakota always looked after her people, and he was glad for it in this moment
"The fuck do you want?!", one of the gangers blurted out, spit flying lazily from his leathered and jowly face as he jumped up from the bar. He stood up as straight as his stupor would allow, but Jackson still had a few inches on him. Must be the big dick...
Jackson grinned from ear to ear, his hand hovering over his holster, "Thought I'd have a drink, maybe take out the trash while I'm at it."
The big dick ganger stumbled over, fighting to keep his balance as he squared off in front of Jackson. He tried in vain to make himself as tall as the ruggedly handsome former rancher as he wavered from side to side, "Yeah...? And what if I like the trash right where it is?"
"Well, then I reckon we have ourselves a quandary...", Jackson answered, not breaking his staring contest as his face turned to stone, "...'cause that means you're standing between me an' my money."
The big dick stood on the tips of his toes as he closed the gap between them and asked with a shove against Jackson's shoulders, "And just what the fuck are you going to do about it, cowboy...?"
Bison pulled his attention just long enough as he called back, "Mind your hands, choom!"
As soon as the big dick's eyes cut away, Jackson reared his head back before crashing forward as their skulls met with a blinding flash and a crack of bone against bone. The ganger flew back, stumbling into an overturned chair as his feet went up in the air and he landed on his face.
The crash rattled Jackson more than he bargained for, and he took an extra second to shake himself loose, banking on the shock of the situation to play in his favor. He wagered wrong, as the next ganger was quick to take the big dick's place with a solid cross. Jackson narrowly avoided a fist straight to the jaw as he leaned back, countering with a quick but powerful jab to the gut from his chromed left hand, his feet shifting into a stance to brace against the impact. It was enough to knock the ganger off balance as he doubled over, fighting to catch his breath. In less than a second, Jackson had him by a handful of hair as he readied the same fist again. The ganger expected to lose his head before Jackson flashed a smile, opting instead to land a charged punch square into his chest. He went airborne as the punch sent him flying back into the opposite wall, a good twenty feet away. He bore the brunt of the impact against his ribcage and spine, losing his footing as he collapsed to the floor.
The two drunk gangers outside both tried to make their move, Bison countering as he unholstered his iron. He had it pointed at one ganger's head as the other tried to take a swing. He dodged back, planting a strong foot in the second ganger's chest and sending him flying over the railing to the asphalt below. The first ganger was a little smarter and quicker on the uptake, carefully raising his hands as he stepped back.
On Jackson's end, he had his revolver drawn, holding the third ganger at gunpoint as the fourth tried to move in. They weren't taking the hint, inebriated as they all were. He had to make a choice, leaving himself open from the back as he turned his attention to fending off the fourth ganger. They exchanged a few mostly undisciplined blows, but the sheer strength was enough to keep Jackson from being able to properly counter. He lost track of the ganger at his back before he felt a strike in his ribs from behind. He cried out as he lost his balance, an arm wrapping around his neck and jerking him back. He was in a firm chokehold, his movement limited as he tried to stay coherent. The ganger in front took the opportunity to try and pummel him, and he was left with only his legs to fight back as he kicked and deflected where he could. He felt another strike at the base of his spine, nearly immobilizing him as his legs went numb and buckled. As he crashed to his knees, he felt the grip tightening around his neck, his vision blurring as he looked at the ganger in front of him closing the distance.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking a hit to the gut in stride as he tried not to lose his breakfast, and as the feeling in his legs slowly returned, he braced himself as he mustered all of his strength. He delivered a solid elbow behind as his eyes opened, hearing and feelling a crunch of bones as the ganger holding him shouted in pain. He felt the arm around his neck loosen, and he staved off the approaching ganger in front with a knee in the groin before kicking out, taking his opponent down at the knees. With a second to spare, and breathe, he turned to his right, leading the momentum with his left hand as he grabbed the ganger behind him by the belt, his right hand grabbing the collar. He pivoted around, lifting the man off the ground as he released.
The airborne ganger flew into the lame ganger trying to stand up straight, his leg bent at an awkward angle with an exposed bone ripping through flesh. They both crashed on top of each other before falling to the floor. Neither one was quick to recover, both groaning and bemoaning the damage already done, but Jackson was zeroed in, not giving them a break as he slowly approached. There was a fire burning in his eyes and a hungry look on his face as he picked up his revolver from the floor and cocked the hammer. He slowly took aim, his hand starting to tremble before Bison's voice beckoned him back from the brink, "Thought you said no bullets, hoss..."
Jackson's brow furrowed before he cut to his right, looking at Bison standing in the doorway with one of the drunk gangers forced to his knees, swearing and protesting under his breath. He pondered his own earlier words for a moment before releasing the hammer on his revolver with a deep sigh. He was finding it harder of late to let go of that darkness, and he knew all the crew had sensed it.
He afforded himself a few moments as he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag to try and calm himself. He turned to Noah as he exhaled smoke through his nose and asked with a laugh, "Boy... what in THE HELL did you do to piss 'ese motherfuckers off so bad, huh?"
Noah raised his hands and chuckled nervously, "Just another day, Jax... they've been showing up the last few weeks and causing trouble, talking about a partnership. But nothing like today..."
Jackson twirled his revolver back into its holster and eyeballed a small cut in Noah's forehead with a trickle of blood, a bruise starting to form as he motioned to his own forehead and said, "Soundin' like par'nership turned to hostile takeover... y'okay there?"
"I've had worse...", the older bartender waved him off as he sighed deep with relief and leaned against the back counter, "...thanks, fellas... really appreciate you both and Dakota having my back."
Bison positioned himself still with a handful of a drunk ganger's collar to pull his own down, showing a large Aldecaldos tattoo on the side of his neck as he nodded, "Family looks after family, choom... ain't nothing about it."
Noah returned the nod as he turned and reached for a bottle, "While it's still nice and quiet, buy you both a drink... or three?"
Jackson didn't even have to turn to see the shit-eating grin on Bison's face, and he flashed his own smile as he answered, eyes cutting to the big dick ganger staring right back, "Very much obliged... jus' le'me take out the trash right quick."
--
Nel cautiously crossed the threshold of the doors leading to a forked hallway path. On her left was a door with a sign that read WOMEN, and on the right, MEN. It wasn't a mystery to Nel in any way which path to take, even as the concept of split bathrooms... or bathrooms period... were entirely foreign to her, but like all new areas of Mother Base that she hadn't yet seen, she didn't know what to expect, and so she remained wary all the same.
She split to the left, approaching as the door slid open automatically. The room was darker than the rest on account of no windows, but still well lit from overhead track lighting. From the doorway, a single path trailed in, surrounded on both sides by stalls separated by sheer dividers. The walls were some kind of slick blue tile, the matching floor dotted with drains all along its subtle downward grade. Each stall had an identical metal tube and spout situated overhead, but no knobs or handles. The entire space smelled of wet; stale soap and residual moisture from the steam carried through the air over the years.
Nel turned to her right, supposedly choosing a stall, and took a step forward. The water cut on automatically, spraying down from the spout as she gasped and jumped back. After several seconds, the forming steam beckoned her as the water splashed against the floor, and she forced herself forward with a fierce determination. She stepped under the circular spray, the water soaking her head and hair before running down her body. She'd never felt such a sensation, hot water pouring over all of her, enveloping her body in its caress. It wasn't long before her tanktop and old cargo pants were equally soaked, clinging to her svelte and lean figure, the relatively thin fabrics leaving nothing to the imagination. She didn't know any better, and even if she did, she certainly didn't care at the moment.
As her body acclimated to all of it, Nel afforded herself a small luxury of closing her eyes as she almost instinctively tilted her head back and exhaled, releasing all the tension in her body. She let the water run over her face and through her hair, bringing her arms up and letting them hang from her neck before tracing down every line and curve to follow the path of every drop and trickle. For the first time in her life, she felt some small semblance of peace, like something was right in the world... and then the moment was entirely lost as she heard soft footsteps behind her.
She spun around, hands at the ready as though she expected some kind of attack from behind while every muscle in her body tensed. Instead, she was met with beautiful brown eyes and a familiarly kind smile belonging to Jayce, standing there in the aisle, naked and unashamed, save for a towel around her neck. She had a rosy tint to her cheeks covered in engine grease and dirt as she smiled, but her confidence waned almost immediately as Nel's eyes drifted down. There was a subtle admiration in her eyes until...
For all of Jayce's largely successful efforts to transition, Nel zeroed in on the one dead giveaway, a look of confusion and something else plastered on her face. It wasn't hurt... but Jayce couldn't quite place it. It was something... deeper... disappointment, maybe?
Regardless, she felt embarrassed in the blink of an eye as she brought one hand and the towel down to cover herself, her other hand reaching up across her torso and holding onto her collarbone. Any one of the crew would have sang her praises for how far she'd come in three years, but all it took was one look from the Stray to tear down every bit of her confidence. She couldn't fault Nel... the girl didn't know any better. She likely never even heard of the concept of gender identity.
Still, Jayce felt something uncomfortable washing over her as she turned away, stepping into the stall across from Nel's as the water started pouring. Even having her toned but supple ass on display now left her feeling unsettled and vulnerable in all kinds of ways, as she still felt Nel's eyes staring through her. She could only wonder what was going on in the girl's mind as she offered the only words she had, "Y'know, mos' people usually strip down 'fore they shower..."
A dark part of her mind drifted to the thought that her... anatomy... might have triggered something in Nel. She could only assume that the poor girl associated the mere sight of cock, no matter what or who it was attached to, with the pain she'd suffered for most of her life. Jayce hated herself in that moment for having been so unintentionally brazen, and she fought an overwhelming sadness setting in as she leaned against the wall and let the water wash away all of it, and a few tears, while she tried to block the world out for a few minutes... you're so fucking stupid...!
Unbeknownst to Jayce, Nel still hadn't moved an inch as the water poured over her, still fully clothed, still staring like her life depended on it with her cheeks burning bright red and a sensation that she couldn't even try to explain. Outside of her pack, never had she seen another person so utterly unprotected and willingly vulnerable... so scared and uncertain, and yet wholly and unapologetically open. Something inside of her yearned to be closer to Jayce, and to feel her strength... to feel her. There was a fire in her gut, warming her from inside as the steam warmed her from the outside. Like the sensation of pouring water, she'd never felt whatever this was, but she felt torn in two directions. She wanted Jayce, unconsciously reaching out with her hand... and yet she wanted nothing at all because her own troubled past told her now that with everything she'd just seen, Jayce was just like all the rest, and would eventually hurt her just like all the rest. And yet every interaction over the last week told her otherwise; Jayce was different. Nel didn't understand any of it; she couldn't make sense of any of it, and even worse, she didn't know how to say any of it... to say what she felt. Here and now, she was lost.
--
[Some time later - Mother Base]
The sun was setting over the ridge, the day's heat still holding on. Jackson smiled as he hopped out of the driver's seat of the Colby, a nice and even buzz making everything seem a little fuzzier and more pleasant. Bison was already two sheets to the wind and screaming for a beer and a shower, so Jackson didn't waste any time holding the big beefcake back. They were a little richer than when they left, and for the cost of a small gash from cracking skulls and some slight bruising on his back and stomach, Jackson couldn't really complain. All in all, it was a good day, and he'd kept his word; not a single shot fired in anger.
He crossed the threshold of the hangar doors, finding everything almost exactly as he left it. Doc Strong's new doors appeared to be in working order, although they were propped open for the moment. As much as Jackson didn't want a talking-to, he knew it was a good idea to at least get looked at, and so he moseyed over, taking his sweet time as he enjoyed the swirling in his head. Addie was parked on a comfortable lounge chair in the middle of the open space, feet propped up on a makeshift metal table as she was engrossed in something on a handheld deck. She'd always enjoyed reading to pass the hours by when she wasn't making runs or otherwise taking Sheila for joyrides.
He still had to apologize, and he resolved himself to doing exactly that after he saw the Doc. He approached the open doors, stopping as he saw Strong already hard at work on another patient; Nel sat on a padded exam table, one arm raised over her head while Strong checked her stitches and changed out bandages. For only a week in their care, she had already healed remarkably fast. There was still some subtle bruising all over, but the lacerations and bullet holes had all but closed up. He leaned against one of the open doors for a moment as he admired watching Strong work; for as big as the man was, to Jayce's point, he really was as soft and gentle as a teddy bear when he needed to be.
Nel caught sight of Jackson in the doorway, her eyes cutting to him for several seconds before she looked away, dipping her head down. He still couldn't get a read on her, but she almost seemed intimidated any time they were around one another. For all his trepidation over the last week at having her around, he was honestly trying to warm up to the girl, to show her he had no ill will; that she was safe here.
He decided to leave well enough alone as he turned to face the music, walking the short distance to where Addie was sitting. Although she was aware of his presence, she gave no outward acknowledgement, letting him make the first move. He carefully took a seat in another chair next to her, crashing back with a deep sigh. It felt good to take a load off, and he considered his words for a moment before he leaned forward and clasped his hands together. Finally, Addie tore her eyes away from her deck, placing it face-down across her legs as she flipped her untamed hair out of her face and met his eyes. She wore a cheeky and expectant smirk as she tried to gauge his body language. There was no easy way to move forward, and so he came right out with it, "I... I'm sorry..."
The smirk broke into a warm smile as Addie nodded, "All's well, Jax..."
"I-I was way out o' line...", Jackson continued, unsure why the words kept pouring, but seemingly unable to stop, "I said things that I—"
Addie leaned forward, placing her gentle hand over his as she interrupted, "We're a family, Jax... have been for years. We're going to argue, we're going to butt heads... Hell, you and I especially..."
Jackson's head sagged down as he laughed nervously while Addie kept going, "What matters is we always find a way through it... you're a good man, I know that, and you being here now only proves it."
He looked up, staring deep into her emerald greens as a warmth washed over him. He placed one of his hands over hers with a gentle squeeze as he said softly, "Thank you..."
They kept eyes on each other, both with something to say and no words to say it, for a moment until Addie nodded over Jackson's shoulder. Their moment was cut short by Strong's voice from behind, "Don't think I didn't see that bruise forming on your forehead, boss... let's get it looked at."
Jackson stifled a laugh, both equally amused and irritated at Strong's whimsical timing, and he stood and turned, "Good to be back, Joshua..."
He saw Nel walking out of the infirmary, keeping to herself, and more importantly keeping to one entire side of the hangar. He couldn't help but notice Jayce walking back and forth earlier, giving a similar wide berth. Jackson looked over to her now organizing her tools, a sullen look on her face. Something was eating at her, and he didn't know what, but as he looked back to Nel and saw a similar discomfort in her expression as her eyes glanced to Jayce and then nowhere in particular, he knew it had to be something between them. He also knew Jayce well enough to know better than to try and drag it out of her. Another conversation for another day. For now, he acquiesced to Doc Strong's orders and walked toward the infirmary for his customary lecture as Addie taunted him with a giggle, "Good luck..."
Yeah, thanks...
--
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