Reunion

Noel left the note crumpled on her bed in the shape of his fist. How dare she? She knew he needed her for negotiations with the locals. He couldn't quite manage the balance of diplomacy and venom that she could.

He needed to blow off some steam. Preferably by kicking her ass, but since she wasn't available, her Dogs would have to do.

They weren't actual dogs, but a motley band of bikers and gangsters and assorted ne’er-do-wells that she'd adopted during their time in Vegas; a rough and tumble bunch of wild men that followed her every word as loyally and faithfully as any trained pet. They were always up for a brawl, and making her pups yelp would suit him just fine until he got his hands on her.

Hoping to find them in the common area, he headed down. As he stepped into the large, open room, he noticed that it was all but abandoned. Except for Fido.

Fido was a bear of a man but didn't move like one. He gently closed his novel with his huge paws and set it on the armrest of the sofa before standing. Nikki had patches made for leather jackets that all of her dogs wore, like a biker gang. She also wore Fido's massive jacket more often than he did, but it was draped around his own shoulders tonight. There was concern in his jade eyes, and his bushy eyebrows were knit with worry.

Noel groaned internally. Fido was Nikki's favorite, practically her right hand man. She'd had him talk to Noel for her a few times, and he'd even run an errand or two for him. If she wasn't so fond of him, she'd said once, she would have sent him with Noel's handpicked group. They were much more restrained and precise than Nikki's dogs, more mercenaries than street toughs. But she wanted to keep him close. And it looked like he was going to talk, which Noel had no interest in doing tonight.

“Get the rest of the Dogs in here. Now.” Noel's voice was clipped.

Fido pulled a flip phone from his pocket and sent out a mass text in the blink of an eye.
“While we wait for them, could I ask you somethin'?” Fido's voice was rough, the voice of a chain smoking ex-con.

“Speak quickly. My patience is running thin.”

“I'll make it quick.” There was a slight subservience to his posture, although he stood a head taller than Noel. His eyes locked on the door over Noel's shoulder as he spoke, watching for the other dogs while simultaneously watching his back. “I know it's above my station, but do you know what Boss has been up to? She's been leavin' every night and I'm worried about her. I tried askin' her last night, but she brushed me off and seemed like she was distracted or somethin'.”

Noel watched him slip the phone back in his pocket, never taking his eyes from the door. He seemed unconcerned that Noel was in such a mood. Nikki probably told him not to worry about it. She would have also made sure that he never showed fear even when he felt it, so as much as Noel would have loved to make him cower and crawl, he knew it wasn't worth it.

“I wouldn't have a clue what runs through her head and this time, there's more than just a harebrained scheme of hers to get some new toys. If I had known this earlier, I would have sent my team after her.” No need to mention that he had a few of them set back as a special task force to track Nikki down when she got a wild hare up her ass or went off the reservation again. “Wait a second. How long has she been acting up?” Noel eyed Fido like he was keeping something from him, information that was worth more than his life.

Fido didn't seem to respond to this sudden interest. He just kept his eyes on the door.
“A couple days. Week at most. And she was sloppier than usual when she fed.” He finally looked away from the door to roll up his sleeve and show Noel his wrist. While it was healed, there shouldn't have been a mass of red scar tissue. It looked like he'd been bitten by some wild animal that had left with a chunk of him dripping from its jaws. Noel almost winced. That was absurdly out of character for Nikki, especially with her pampered Fido. “And she's been havin' nightmares again. Bad ones. I can hear her through the walls. She's been cryin' for him more than normal.”

While Noel knew about her night terrors, it was still somewhat surprising that Fido was able to hear them through the concrete that separated the rooms from each other. Their rooms shared a wall, since Nikki preferred to sleep nearer her pets than in the executive chambers of the underground barracks and bunker.

Noel's anger burned even hotter. He should have noticed the signs. Nikki was anything but subtle, and it should have been obvious that something was wrong. He'd let himself get too caught up in his own plans to notice that his comrade and co-conspirator was acting strangely.

“She's gathered new blood recently, has she?” Noel turned briefly to the door as the sound of approaching footsteps grew nearer, wondering if he'd see any new faces in the bunch.

“No, sir. She's just been goin' off on her own and she won't say anythin' about it. I did see her backhand Spike the other day because he didn't answer her quick enough. It's been a while since she went off on one of her benders though. You think this could be one of them?” He asked. It'd been months since the last time Nikki had locked herself up in the walk-in freezer, wearing one of Ivanov's old coats and crying while she clutched the scalpel she'd kept from his chamber in New Orleans. In fact, she hadn't done anything of the sort since she got back from New York, and that had been over six months ago. That meant...

“Worse.” It was all that Noel could do to force the word through his teeth.

“What do you mean, 'worse'?” Fido's tone changed abruptly as he spoke. It dropped an octave and took on a dangerous edge.

The dogs started to trickle in then, roughhousing and tussling with each other as they entered. As soon as they spotted Noel, they stopped, straightened up, and formed a straight line against the wall, facing him.

“Welcome, boys!” Noel greeted them, ignoring Fido, “I know it's been a while since we've had a training night, so we're having one now!” His voice was that of a carnival barker, dead on the inside, but full of mirth for the viewers. He turned his insincere smile on Fido, “I mean the worst possible scenario.” His disclosure was whispered, a confidence and a warning shared from one who knows to one uninitiated. Fido didn't break eye contact as he shouted,

“You heard him. Move!”

The dogs cleared out of the room, heading to the training area. At least they had the decency to refrain from grumbling and complaining until they believed they were out of Noel's earshot. They misjudged the distance, however.

“He's dead. Is she huntin' a corpse?” Fido asked once they were alone. Noel's glare failed to intimidate him. Of course he was furious, but there was something under that roiling rage that showed that he was just as worried as Fido was, but less frightened for her.

“He's someone who molded her into being your leader. You really think a bastard like him will stay in the ground?” Noel started down the hallway to the training area, Fido trailing him. Neither spoke until they reached the training room. Noel climbed into the ring fully dressed, not even bothering to remove his suit jacket.

Fido grabbed Scout, a skinny punk barely in his early twenties, and threw him out of the ring, taking his place. “You don't think he's dead.” He said.

“Unless we have his ashes in an urn that was blessed by four separate religions and sealed with hot glue and holy water, I do not. And stop throwing Stupid over there out of the ring.” He climbed into the makeshift boxing ring in the center of the room. Fido followed, climbing into the opposite corner of the ring.

“Any idea where she might have gone?” Fido asked, shrugging out of his jacket and cracking his knuckles.

“If I did, would I be here?” Noel asked, suddenly charging at Fido. He hit him square in the chest with a shoulder, but checked his momentum at the last possible second, hitting him only half as hard as he possibly could. Fido took the hit, wrapping his massive arms around Noel's slight chest and bringing him to the ground with him. Once he regained his breath, he spoke.

“Tell me where to look.” His chest ached from the impact, but he got the words out through the dull pain. Noel rolled to the side, pulling Fido with him and slamming him into the floor again.

From his place atop Fido's broad chest, he said, “If I knew, I'd tell you. I'd send you and the guard dogs after her.”

Fido turned to spit blood onto the mat from his bloodied lip. He wasn't even sure how it happened, but the salt and iron behind his teeth irritated him.

“Just me.”

He surged up then, pushing Noel off of his chest and sitting up.

“I'm gonna search her room. Kick someone else's ass.” He stood, peeling off his now ripped shirt, and tossed it over his shoulder, reaching for the jacket offered to him by the dog he'd thrown from the ring earlier. Noel was able to see the tattoo on his heart. It was a cartoon heart wrapped in thick chains, something from before Nikki had found him in that Phoenix truck stop.

“Rover,” Fido called, “You're up.” He turned his back to the ring and headed out of the training area.