Neeko hears the shouting before she understands the words.
She is outside helping Sunny re-hang a warped shutter when Trudy's voice cuts through the air, spilling out of the saloon like smoke from a grease fire.
"I told you, he ain't here!"
Neeko looks up.
Sunny sighs.
"That'll be him again," she mutters.
"Him?" Neeko asks.
Sunny's jaw tightens. "One bad hombre."
Neeko does not know what that means, but she does not like the way Sunny says it.
They step toward the saloon door together.
Inside, the air immediately feels heavier. Trudy stands behind the bar, arms braced against the counter like she's holding the whole building up with them. Across from her stands a man in dirty prison stripes and a half-smile that does not reach his eyes.
Joe Cobb.
He leans like he owns the place.
"You're a real poor liar, Trudy," he says lazily. "Word is Ringo came through here. Word is he's hidin'."
"Word is wrong," Trudy snaps.
Joe's gaze drifts lazily around the room.
It lands on Neeko.
He studies her jumpsuit. The Pip-Boy. The way she stands slightly too straight.
"Well now," he says. "Who's this?"
Neeko brightens automatically.
"Hello!" she says. "Neeko is—"
Sunny's hand brushes her elbow, cutting her off. A warning.
Joe's eyes narrow slightly.
"Vaultie, huh?" he says. "That's cute."
"No, Neeko is from a different hole in the ground."
A few people in the room snort.
Turning away, Joe's smile sharpens as he steps closer to the bar.
"Here's what's gonna happen," he continues. "You hand over the caravaneer, or we come back with friends."
Neeko frowns.
"That does not sound like sharing," she says.
Joe looks at her again.
"And who the hell are you supposed to be?"
Neeko beams.
"I am trying to be everybody's friend."
The room goes very still.
Joe laughs. Not kindly.
"Friendship's expensive out here, sweetheart."
Neeko nods thoughtfully.
"Oh," she says. "How much?"
Sunny shifts beside her.
Joe's eyes flick to Sunny, then back to Neeko.
"You got caps?" he asks.
Neeko pats her pockets reflexively.
Sunny speaks first.
"She don't."
Joe smirks. "A shame."
He straightens up, dusts his hands off like he's finished an unpleasant chore. "You got 'til tomorrow," he tells Trudy. "After that, this town gets real uncomfortable real fast."
He walks toward the door.
As he passes Neeko, he leans in slightly.
"Careful who you smile at," he murmurs. "Some folks'll mistake that for weakness."
The door swings shut behind him.
Silence settles.
Neeko looks around at the faces in the room.
She sees fear.
Anger.
Resentment.
Sho'ma.
"…He is upset," Neeko says carefully.
Sunny exhales.
"He's a Powder Ganger," she says. "Escaped convict. Blows things up for fun. Thinks the world owes him."
Neeko processes this.
"Does he want Ringo because Ringo hurt him?"
Trudy shakes her head.
"Ringo shot back when they tried to rob his caravan," she says. "Joe don't like that."
Neeko nods slowly.
She thinks about mantises.
She thinks about geckos.
She thinks about what Sunny said.
Some people only speak one language. Even if Neeko speaks many.
She smiles softly. "This Powder Ganger must be scared of something too. Maybe Neeko can talk to him," she offers.
Sunny looks at her like she just suggested petting a landmine.
"That ain't no gecko," Sunny says quietly.
Neeko's smile falters.
She looks toward the door Joe exited through.
She is not sure, either, but willing to try.
"Where is Ringo?" she asks. "Neeko will go and talk to him first."
Trudy and Sunny exchange a look. It happens fast. Barely visible. But Neeko sees it. She knows it is the look of people who have already decided something without saying it out loud.
"Well? Where is he?" Neeko asks again.
Trudy wipes her hands on a bar rag that is not getting any cleaner.
"That ain't your concern," she says.
Sunny's voice is gentler. "We've got a handle on it," she says. "You don't need to worry yourself."
Neeko frowns. "But I want to help."
Sunny smiles, but Neeko knows it is like a mask.
They are planning. Without her.
She simply nods.
"Okay," she says. But it feels wrong in her mouth.
Not long after, she walks alone. The sun is sinking, bleeding rust into the hills. The wind has picked up, carrying grit that tastes like old metal.
The gecko rides her shoulder, tail wrapped loosely around her collar.
"I am not a baby," Neeko tells him quietly.
He chirps, noncommittal.
She kicks a small stone down the road.
"They think Neeko cannot help."
The stone disappears into dust as she hears a familiar, mechanical whir humming behind her.
A cheerful voice drawls, "that's a mighty long face."
Neeko turns. "What? My face is not—"
It is the one who calls himself Victor. The one who pulled Neeko from the ground like a potato.
He is standing in the road like he grew there.
Neeko squints at him, instinctively searching for sho'ma. There is something there. But it does not flicker, it does not warm. It sits inside him like a coin sealed in glass.
"…Hello," she says cautiously.
"Evenin', Miss Neeko," Victor replies. "You seem troubled."
Neeko studies him.
"You have weird sho'ma," she says bluntly.
"Well," he says, tipping his hat and pausing before continuing pleasantly, "I for sure ain't heard that one before. What's a sho'ma? Mind filling a feller in?"
"You do not feel familiar," Neeko clarifies. "It is…strange."
Victor chuckles.
"Guess that makes me a proper enigma."
Neeko does not laugh.
He tilts his rusted metal head.
"Care to share what's got you out here wanderin' all by your lonesome?" he asks.
Neeko hesitates.
Then the words tumble out:
"I want to protect Goodsprings," she says. "But they do not tell Neeko important things. They think Neeko is silly—that she will only make bad decisions."
Victor nods thoughtfully. "Folks do tend to underestimate what they don't quite understand," he says smoothly.
Neeko brightens.
"Yes!"
"And you'd like to prove otherwise."
"Yes."
"Well," he says, "funny thing about that."
Neeko leans forward. "Yes?"
"I happen to know where that caravaneer fella's holed up."
The wind shifts.
Neeko's eyes widen.
"You do?"
Victor nods. "Sure as sugar! He's in the old petrol station, just outside town. Man's about as subtle as a brahmin in a bathhouse and twitchier than a deathclaw in heat."
Neeko feels a heaviness inside her chest.
"They did not tell Neeko," she says.
Victor shrugs lightly.
"Adults do love their secrets."
Neeko looks back toward town. In just the short time she has lived here, Goodsprings has begun to feel like home. Its people are like family. She would do anything to protect them.
Then she looks back at Victor. "Will you show me?" she asks.
Victor tips his hat again.
"Wouldn't dream of doin' otherwise."
The gecko shifts uneasily against Neeko's shoulder.
Neeko is excited to go right now.
However, Victor suggests they wait until nightfall.
"Less likely to be spotted that way," he says pleasantly.
The walk to the outskirts feels longer in the dark.
They pass homes where people are settling in for the night.
Neeko keeps her eyes forward. She feels like she is doing something she will have to explain to Sunny with her tail between her legs later. But she will press on anyway.
The air inside the station is stale. Thick with dust.
Victor pauses just inside.
"Well now," he says, holding up a lantern.
Neeko steps forward.
She smells dirt. Rubber. Old gasoline.
…and then it is her turn to see it.
It is the shape of a man, barely caught in the lantern's dim spill of light. Garbed in rough brown leathers. Head bowed. Face lost beneath a dark fall of hair.
The first thing she notices are the boots.
They are the nicest thing on him.
They hang there.
Perfectly still.
A few inches above the ground.
Victor tutts disapprovingly. "Looks like we're a tad late to the party."
"…Oh," Neeko says softly.
The gecko presses closer to her neck.
She gasps. "Is that—"
"Ringo," Victor confirms, as he removes his hat.
"What happened? Why is he…"
"Poor fella must've decided he didn't fancy the odds."
Neeko takes the lantern from Victor and steps closer, lifting it until the light spills across Ringo's face. She tilts her head, searching in the special way only she can—reaching for the hum beneath skin, the small bright thread that makes a person a person.
There is almost nothing there. Only the faintest whisper, a last-fading echo of a once-grand symphony.
Neeko's mouth tightens.
Oh.
This is that kind of sleep, she realizes.
The one that does not end.
She does not like the word humans use for it.
Her hands tighten around the lantern.
"Did Powder Gangers get here before Neeko?"
Victor clears his throat.
"Well. I, personally, would not surmise that."
Neeko turns to him apprehensively.
"Tell Neeko," she says. Flatly. Even if she does not really want to know.
Victor shifts, his rust-bitten insides churning.
"Sometimes," he says in the same pleasant drawl, only dimmed a shade, "when folks decide there ain't a good way out… some'll up and choose to stop tryin'."
Neeko blinks. "He stopped…trying?"
"To be alive," Victor clarifies.
"He…did this himself?"
"Yes ma'am."
Neeko can barely process this.
Why would someone give away all of their sho'ma?
Don't they know it does not ever return?
She looks toward Ringo again.
"It's because Joe Cobb made him very afraid."
"I reckon so," said Victor.
Neeko frowns. "That is…hard to understand. But very sad."
Victor tips his head.
"Well," he says, "fear does funny things."
Neeko steps forward slowly.
"I did not get to talk to him," she murmurs.
A tear slides down her cheek before she realizes it is there.
She wipes it away, almost embarrassed.
"I never met him properly," she says. "But I still think he was very brave."
Victor nods politely.
"Well now," he says after a moment, "silver linin' is…if Ringo's gone, Cobb ain't got much reason to cause trouble. There ain't no pressing the matter if the matter's done."
Neeko looks at him sharply.
"Goodsprings is safe?" she asks. Doubtful.
"Reckon so," Victor says, spreading his hands in a kind of mock benediction. "Or not."
Neeko thinks about that.
She thinks about Joe Cobb's smile.
She thinks of something Sunny might say:
"That is not the look of a man who's content to just shrug and walk away."
Her face darkens.
"No."
Victor tilts his head. "No?"
"It is not enough," she says quietly. "Even if Joe Cobb finds out Ringo is"—she hesitates, grasping for the right words: "no longer here, he will still be making trouble."
Victor considers this.
"Well," he says pleasantly, "he is one bad bandito."
Neeko looks up at the hanging form of Ringo again.
She fixates on his chest. On the empty air where sho'ma should be.
She steps closer and shuts her eyes.
She reaches. The sho'ma is faint now. Fading. But it is there.
A vague pattern. A mold.
It is emotion:
Fear.
Sadness. Anger.
A small, bright flame—one that refused to bow.
Neeko's body shimmers.
Her bones shift. Her skin reshapes.
Her clothes transform with her.
The whole process only takes a matter of seconds. And when she opens her eyes again—
It is Ringo who is looking back at Victor.
Victor freezes for half a second.
"Well I'll be—"
Neeko flexes her fingers experimentally. It feels like changing clothes. Only everywhere. Though not nearly as uncomfortable as it might sound. Like it's a perfect fit.
"We will not give Joe Cobb what he wants," she says in Ringo's voice.
"We will give him something better."