Beat Francis at Arm Wrestling Pt. 03

Jenny chuckled. "There's a woman and a man back in New Reno who'd both disagree," she said. "I got scores to settle back there, and I won't stop until I'm champion of the whole damn city."

"We'll hear about it over here when you do it," Francis agreed. "If anyone can do it, it's you. Do they allow that thing in the ring?"

"No, we're not super mutants, we can't heal so quick from injuries like that," Jenny laughed. "I'd like to see the look on Stuart's face if I tried to box with this on! I'd be hounded out of town after I'd killed all the others in the gym."

They had kept their grip, both unwilling to let go. For a moment they looked into each other's eyes. Then Jenny smiled, let go, and walked into the caravan office and out of Francis's life.

Francis headed back to his home. "No escalation," he muttered under his breath, "that's what I promised. Didn't say nothin' about payback for past crimes..."

Jenny walked through the office building, heading for Bill's desk. Several of the off-duty guards recognized her and waved a greeting as she passed by, and she smiled and waved back. She got a few wolf-whistles too, but she couldn't tell if it was typical behavior from the men who'd been out in the wastelands for weeks, or if it was from men who had seen her in action the past two nights. Or perhaps they even knew her from New Reno.

Thinking of New Reno made her smile. She looked forward to telling her rival Patricia, also known as Pounding Patty, that she'd arm wrestled a super mutant and won. "Let's see her try and one-up that," she thought.

"Bill, Marcus says he really needs to talk to Chad, wants you to send Chad his way," she told the balding man.

Bill sighed. "Sure, I'll do that, once Chad comes back. He went off for a trip up north. No idea why, he said something about checking on a caravan. Jenny, do you think I do a bad job here?" he asked suddenly, sounding plaintive.

"What?" Jenny stared. "Well... no? You look out for us, you arrange our schedules, there're never any hitches, we get paid on time... You're a great Outfitter. What's the problem? What've you and Marcus been so worried about?"

"Oh... so you picked up on that too, huh," Bill replied. "It doesn't add up. I have some complaints from Gecko -- that's the ghoul town up north -- but all the receipts I have from Chad square with my accounts. But the complaints are really persistent. So Marcus and I can't ignore them. I don't know if... well, if Chad is skimming anything off the top for himself. He's a good caravan master. Real good. I let him handle a lot of the business here. Maybe I shouldn't have? I don't know."

He sighed. "Well anyway, great to see you back here," he said, distractedly. "Not sure what shenanigans you're going to get up to again tonight, but whatever you do, just make sure you're here in the morning like you're supposed to be, okay?"

"Don't worry, Bill," Jenny assured him. "I'm staying right here in this building until the morning comes. Not going anywhere."

"Oh? Well, okay," Bill said, turning his attention back to the paperwork. "See you, then."

She found a place in the locker room where she could be alone, and sat down slowly. Making sure that no one was around, Jenny clenched her fists, and sat there, burning with rage that had been hitherto suppressed.

She understood Marcus's position, and she knew that his hands were tied. But that didn't take away the trauma of what she had experienced -- being at the mercy of others who didn't mean her well, being weaker than she normally was, being overmastered by her inferiors, having to fight for her life down to the wire against an unfairly enhanced opponent.

She remembered it all too well -- how she had to endure the punches Liz had dealt out without being able to roll with them or lessen the impact; how she had been forced into an orgasm by Aileen; how desperate and fearful her final struggle with Liz had been.

It was not enough. She had been lying to Marcus and Francis, because she wanted the matter to be over as far as they were concerned. She had observed that most of the miners were super mutants -- she had heard that the mines tended to have high levels of radon gas, and also there was background radiation, so the humans could not really operate the machinery in the depths. They worked above-ground. The ghouls regarded radiation the same way humans regarded a warm water bath or sunlight, and the mutants simply shrugged off the effects as well.

From this, she could see how fragile the peace was. Thanks to the presence of Marcus, a truly remarkable leader, it had become part of the culture here to have all these groups living together harmoniously, sharing the same public spaces with an attitude of reciprocal respect. But let something tip this precarious balance, and the town's very existence would be threatened. This was something even a caravan guard heard about sometimes: Broken Hills was nothing without the uranium deposits.

If she wanted her revenge, she would need to bide her time, and find an opportunity to give Jacob, Aileen and Liz the payback they truly deserved. It could be weeks, months, perhaps even years in coming. But she couldn't be selfish and put her personal vendetta ahead of the welfare of an entire town.

Dark fantasies would have to suffice for the time being, Jenny decided as she leaned her head on the wall and let her fatigue overtake her.

Her dreams were disturbed -- she was in a ring, with the roaring crowd on all sides, trying to duck and weave, but her movements were slow, as if she were moving in water. Her opponent was huge, so huge -- a mass of muscle. The face shifted -- the ugly pug-nosed face belonging to Mike "The Masticator" morphed into Liz's perpetual scowl, but the physique remained a roiling mass of muscle. Her adversary smacked her around, and she could not avoid a single blow, or land one of her own.

Then her adversary drew close to her and flexed its arms.

"You're a weakling," it cried, its voice a discordant mishmash of male and female. "You're not strong enough. You're weak."

Groaning, Jenny tried to flex her own arms and push against her adversary, bumping chests. But she didn't have the muscle to resist -- she was forced back hard, and the crowd jeered.

The amorphous face loomed over her. It leered. Pinning her arms, it mounted her. A strap-on appeared. Jenny looked up -- it was Liz, muscled up with Buffout. The scowling face moved closer and filled Jenny's entire vision.

She awoke with a start. Her body was awash in cold sweat. A few female caravan guards were looking at her curiously from across the room.

"You ok, honey?" one of them said. She wore a green Mohawk -- clearly she used to be a tribal. "You were moaning a bit bad there. Got a fever?"

"No... no, just a bad dream," Jenny said.

"Hey, it's her," another of them gasped, pointing at her. "The one who beat a super mutant at arm wrestling. That's her."

Jenny was invited to lunch with the group -- it was a bit past noon -- but remembering her promise, she declined, and asked them instead to bring her back something to eat. She spent the rest of the afternoon dozing on a cot. The Buffout crash wore off by late afternoon, and she did some pushups, feeling pleased at how her body was working at full strength again.

Later that night, the girl who had recognized her earlier slipped into her cot, under the sheets. She said her name was Alma. She was from Redding, to the west. Her breasts were small, her arms were lithe, and she moaned and shivered like a child in the cold.

The next morning, along with the rest of the caravan -- including Alma and her two other friends -- Jenny set off north for Vault City.