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Hestia Flores sat where she did most evenings, plopped down on a rickety steel stool in front of the bar within the sprawling expanse of the mall-strip turned slaver haven that was Paradise Falls. The makeshift bar and grill was tucked away in a corner of the main courtyard, shielded from the outside world by a motley roof of tacky corrugated steel sheets.  

“What shit-stinking hole did they pull you out of, huh?” Ymir, the bearded knucklehead enforcer sitting a few stools away from Hestia, sneered at the bartender. 

“Big Town, sir.” Jeff the bartender mumbled in his usually quite tone, avoiding eye-contact with the larger man as he stuck to vigorously scrubbing one of the classes with a grimy cloth. 

“Sir, eh?” Ymir pondered, a broad grin creasing his gnarled face “at least this one’s got more manners and sense than the last barman.” 

“You sent a pretty clear messages when you spread his brains all across the dirt, you fucking madman.” Hestia teased, smiling her slick smile as she munched on a Fancy Lady Snack Cake, her lips smeared with crumbs and powder. 

Ymir shrugged his broad shoulders “Don’t mess with a man’s vodka.” He said plainly, before taking a long swig from his glass. 

“Hey, fat-ass!” A gruff voice called out. 

Frowning, Hestia swivelled on her stool, catching a glimpse of Eulogy’s second-in-command making his way across the courtyard towards her. 

“Eulogy has business with you and your Daddy.” He snapped in his usual drawl. ‘Forty’, as folks called him, was a tall, well-built man, with tanned skin, a scraggily orange beard, and a similarly coloured Mohawk erupting from his rounded head. 

“Good thing he sent his little errand boy to come find me then.”  Hestia sneered, springing off of her stool. She was a big girl, with an overly-plump form, and her huge stomach oozed out infront of her, pressing against the buckles and straps of the raider armour she’d taken to wearing. 

She moved to walk past Forty, but he extended one leathery hand, giving her a sharp push backwards. 

“I ain’t no man’s messenger, little girl.” He hissed “And I got more important things to do than fetch tubby porkers from across their eating troughs.” 

“You appear to be blocking the path to Eulogy.” Hestia said dryly. 

“Know why the call me ‘Forty’, little girl?” the big man jeered. 

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.” Hestia remarked, rolling her brown eyes. 

“I dun killed forty men in my time, whore.” Forty spat, showing off rows of rotten yellow teeth. “Killed a few fat little Brahmin, too.” He added, looking Hestia up and down. 

“Funny you should mention Brahmin,” Hestia replied in her sweetest voice “because it’s my Daddy’s Brahmin caravan’s that ship your slaves all over the Graveyard, and it’s my Daddy’s Brahmin meat that keeps you people fed.” 

She took a single, slow, step towards the hulking enforcer, a light smirking creeping across her plump lips. 

“We Flores are the only thing keeping this little pile of steel and glass standing, right now.” She snapped coolly “I’m sure that’s managed to worm its way inside even your thick, fucking, skull.” 

“Now just a minute-“Forty bellowed, but Hestia kept talking. 

“I want you to listen very carefully to what I’m about to say, Forty.” She chided “I want you to learn something important today.” 

 She paused, looking about steadily, letting her words hang in the air for a short moment. 

“Whenever you and your scrawny cock-suckers try and fuck with me, I will fuck you right back. At best, you’re just another small time player, honey bunny, what makes you think you can lay a finger on me and walk away without losing a hand?” 

Hestia pushed past Forty, who stood there speechless, and made her way over to Eulogy’s pad. She swaggered confidently across the courtyard, past the small gathers of armoured slavers, her enormous flabby hips swinging back and forth with each step she took. 

Eulogy’s pad was a decrepit old movie theatre that had been repurposed after the bomb’s fell. The entry area was cracked and coming apart, with peeled wallpaper and chunks of plaster scattered across the grime-stained floor, and a sickly green mushroom-like substance that gave off a worrying glow was spreading through the cracks in the floor tiles. 

Eulogy and her father stood in the front lobby, hurling insults and harsh words between each other. 

“This is your fucking problem, use your own fucking men!” Her father, a balding man in a leather jacket and orange tinted sunglasses, snarled. 

“This became both of our problems when our operations climbed into bed together.” Eulogy seethed, his dark brow furrowing. Eulogy was a black skinned man, dressed in a rich salmon suit that was too fine to be anything other than a jet dream to most wastelanders, and the tyrannical boss of the slavers in Paradise Falls.  “This is my motherfucking territory, and I will not abide being talked back to by some farmer!” 

“You’ve got a pretty sharp fucking tongue for someone who was about an inch away from losing control of his own people before my family showed up to pull you out of the dust.” Harold Flores said darkly, staring daggers at the lean figure across from him. 

Hestia cleared her throat loudly as she entered the pad, walking slowly over to the two men.

“Your ginger mongrel said you wanted to talk to me.” She called over to Eulogy. 

“Ah, Hestia, dearest.” Her father greeted her with a strained smile “Mr Jones wanted to discuss some business with us.” 

“Yeah, it sounded there was a lot of [i]discussing[/i] going on…” Hestia remarked with a faint smirk. 

“The enclave want to open up trading routes,” Harold informed her “but this arrogant scum bag is too cock-sure to send his own fucking men!” her father turned back to Eulogy, spitting more rage at him. 

“We just don’t have the numbers to waste time messing around with those power-armoured pricks!” Eulogy exclaimed “business is booming as it is, and our partnership with the folks over at the Pitt is bringing in more caps than I can spend.” 

“If it weren’t for me and my assets then you’d be hanging from a lamppost by now!” Harold bellowed furiously. 

“I’ll admit your caravans have been useful to me,” Eulogy said slowly “but do not presume to come in here and tell me how to use my men!” 

“I’ll go.” Hestia said calmly. 

The two men turned to look at her. 

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Her father scoffed. 

“I’m not.” She replied firmly “Business IS booming, but only as long as are operations flowing and functional, and we can’t afford to jeopardise that. I’m the daughter of one of the leaders of this establishment, and I speak with the authority of the Flores family, me going sends a very clear message to the Enclave; that we respect them, and that we value their business.” 

“It would allow the girl to spread her wings.” Eulogy pondered, placing one hand on his strong chin.
 
“I suppose there is some merit to it.” Her father admitted. 

Eulogy grinned “Don’t fuck this one up, and there’s major caps for you at the other end.” 

“You should probably get going before your mother finds out.” Her father said with a slightly worried smirk.