#stuff like the ending of vivian's regret just come across as very mean-spirited for no reason

[dormont]

v13.5 has given me the biggest love/hate relationship with rejuv that wasn't there when i first it played with v13 sorry

[valkblue]

— masterlist, AO3

Chapter 3 on 12

Chapter wordcount: 5,241 Rating: General Warning: You know the drill by now, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ swearing and technobabble!

Author’s notes: Soft engineer goes yeehaw.

Tag list: @hathorik​, @pheedraws​, @the-blind-assassin-12​

Does anyone else wants to be added to the tag list? Let me know. 💙

— Chapter 3

In front of the mirror, Vivian was enjoying a pretty flattering image of herself in this Old West apparel; it was brand new, from boots to hat, all worn looking with some sort of a distress effect for which Vivian had actually paid good money. The staff didn’t always get to choose among the bespoke best of the best considering the renting was free… But if one aimed for ever so slightly better, it wasn’t anymore!

For now, Vivian regretted nothing, except maybe that she wouldn’t get to keep it all at the end of her stay. She even afforded a gun!

But considering where she intended to go, it wouldn't be just a pointless luxury. And neither would be looking a bit more weathered than as if straight out of the tailor's shop…

Filled with pride, Vivian flushed at the thought she hoped not to be the only one to think her pretty, and to make an impression on the other guests. For no reason other than to boost her self-esteem. She pulled her hair up, trying to shape them into some fancy beachy waves, same as for a western starlet, Sharon Stone in that antic 95' movie, "The Quick and the Dead"… but not as sexy. Also, less blond.

And clearly, everything else was so frickin stylish as well! Thanks so much, Design.

All the available outfits for the clients were carefully recreated with historical sewing patterns but with all the benefits of current materials. And the gray linen shirt, the vest and the pants Vivian was wearing were cut better and no doubt from much more comfortable fabric than her everyday clothes that it was borderline upsetting!

Still, she smiled to her reflection while tying a large beige and red kerchief around her neck.

This time, she chose what she would wear. No way she’d suffer dresses or puffed sleeves and flowered hats ever again!

Her first visit in the park, not too long after she started in Behavior, was on the occasion of a "team building" week-end of some sort but after a few hours — a day, maybe? — everyone had scattered around in the limits set to them during their onboard train briefing… So much for team spirit!

That being said, Vivian was fine with that; she was of the quiet kind, more observing than extroverted, and to go forth befriending new people, stuff like that, wasn’t really her strength. Even if everything had been set up to spur her on that way. Like, a Team Building week-end…

But then, it was also because she was the way she was — alone and no strings attached — that Vivian had grasped this golden opportunity to work as a coder for Delos in their now famous park. She only had a few friends all around the world, mostly online, and didn’t keep much contacts up with her family, especially her sister with whom she shared an old resentment.

It was this lack of ties that could let people believe her more focused and available than her otherwise committed colleagues.

These thoughts discarded, Vivian put her stetson on, stuffed her gloves in her gunbelt and picked her saddlebags up before leaving the dressing room to walk the hallways down to the elevator. It took her in one go all the way to the level right below the surface, from which the maglev shuttles' terminal was distributing the entirety of the park; she almost jumped out of the cabin and kept a brisk pace in the last long corridors to reach a plainer hall than the client’s terminal.

Shifting her saddlebags’s weight on her shoulder, Vivian moved across the space, ignoring the curious eyes to get to one of the shuttle’s platform. She was already getting in character, and she enjoyed it. 

Maybe a bit too much, she thought as she tipped her hat to three techs in suits and apron. She was discovering herself an unsuspected confidence that she liked very much; she giggled with pleasure as she stepped in the shuttle she was about to share with a group of techs from various departments and two guys from QA’s security, including one who gave an enormous yawn.

The shuttle carried them at high speed and stopped first at Vivian's meeting point, where she was the only one to step off.

With a peek at her pocket watch, Vivian hoped she wasn’t late, provided that she didn’t get stood up. But passing one of the many concrete pillars in the huge low lit tunnel, her worries faded; Graham didn’t let her down. He was there, waiting for her next to a freight lift, holding a beautiful chestnut horse by the bridle. At least, she wouldn’t have to walk, or rely on the train and start all the way back from Sweetwater.

"Thanks, Graham! Sorry for the trouble…"

"No problem," he answered. "You’re aiming to make a mess someplace, aren’t you?"

Vivian scoffed and buckled her saddlebags to her steed’s gear.

"No, not even! I’m just gonna visit remote corners, far from the tourists’ standard circuit."

"Mmh, good luck…" Graham replied lazily, handing her the reins. "Cry for help and shake your arms to the camera if you need us to come get you!"

She punched him lightly in the arm and he smiled, unfolding a tablet on which he confirmed Vivian and her horse’s exit in the logs.

"You’re good to go."

"Thanks, Graham."

"Yeah, yeah…"

He waved her away towards the glass lift; as she was getting ready inside, her horse still held by the reins, Graham ordered it to go up — the doors closed, and the cabin shook in its tubular frame.

"Yeehaw, babey!" he shouted, playfully.

Vivian shrugged before patting her horse’s shoulder as to calm it. It didn’t need any of that, it was actually more about alleviating her own stress by petting it. The lift slowly raised Vivian and her horse to the surface where the bright daylight was jarring. She lowered her head to look around under the brim of her hat; a great plain spread out in front of her eyes, surrounded by crisp red hills covered in tall grass and a few crooked trees like old charred bones.

The lift shook again before coming to a stop, startling the horse that jolted at the end of its reins. Vivian patted its neck and when the doors opened she steered it out; a gust of wind full of a warm earthy smell rushed a cloud of dust against the armored glass.

Gathering the reins on her horse’s neck , Vivian hoisted herself in the saddle; it wasn’t something new by any means, but the feeling of it was strange anyway — she hadn’t been on a horse for a very long while. But as they said, it was like riding a bike…

For now, she was happy just by staying in the saddle, unmoving, and took the time to put her gloves on to observe the landscape. According to the map she did her best to memorize, Las Mudas was north-west from this outpost, within a few miles. On horseback, it wouldn’t take long. And she would find the road eventually, even before reaching the town.

Vivian clicked her tongue to encourage her mount to walk, and it obeyed; she was in no real hurry but if she hoped to be in the right place at the right time to smoothly intercept the narrative of her choice, she ought to end up galloping at some point, fast!

She picked in her pocket, pulling out her watch; it was past two in the afternoon and, provided she didn’t wind up lost, she’d be there around four. Comfortably set in her saddle and stirrups, Vivan pushed the pace of her horse with another click of her tongue while the freight lift was quaking back down.

Gallop wasn’t uncomfortable, but galloping that long could quickly become so and, once she reached the dirt road meandering in the sparse vegetation all the way to Las Mudas, Vivian let her horse go back to a trot. And that gait was straight down uncomfortable but she preferred riding all the way there rather than popping up through a building access right in the middle of the town, fresh as a daisy, hands in her pockets, saddlebags on her shoulder… and without any pony.

Not fishy at all…

The truth was she didn’t had much of a choice about the available access points, really! She did what she could with what was among the closest. But it was fine by her. It would make the experience more authentic and gave her the time to check what she could have overlooked before leaving, or even think things through instead of just dive head first into trouble.

That being said, she hoped there wouldn’t be any; she wasn’t there to go on an adventure, but to hold a promise… while taking notes on her script in field conditions.

The thought that she’d remove it if it caused any issue was kinda gut wrenching but she thought it best to blame it on hunger. Vivian hadn’t had lunch yet so nervous she was, and now, she was starving.

But, at last, the shape of the town’s walls cut out on the hills gray with garrigue. Maybe she’d eat something once settled there. She had heard that the food was kinda good around these parts…

Vivian let the reins loose; only a few yards and they entered, walking, on the town’s dusty square. Even if her poor horse had done most of the work, it wasn’t the only one to be tired by this scamper; they both had a sore back and stiff legs. Getting her feet back on the ground would be an interesting experience in a few moments…

She stretched her shoulders as she was slowing down her horse, until it stopped, nose in front of the fountain. Apparently, she was better at parallel parking with a horse than with her car!

That thought made Vivian snicker as she slowly slid down her steed. As she expected, dismounting was tough; the pain surge from the sole of her feet all the way to her thighs, getting her knees to shake. She stood still for a second, taking the time to pat her horse who had already dived its big grey nose into the water of the fountain.

"Good idea, buddy,” she whispered, out of breath.

She took her canteen from her saddle horn to take a long sip from it. The water wasn’t that fresh anymore but it still did the job; Vivian felt like all the dust of the road was in her throat right now! Her steps heavy, betraying her lack of habit to ride for so long, she sat with less grace than hoped on the edge of the stone basin, beside her still drinking horse. Vivian took a hot minute to breathe and watch the scenery of Las Mudas; she could make out the colors of the house fronts under the dusty patina, feel the cool air and hear the quiet bustle of its inhabitants. Children were running after a few panicking chickens with a dog barking in excitement and wagging its tail like a whip.

Vivian removed her gloves and untied her neckerchief to wipe her face. When her horse raised its head, its mouth dripping with water on her shoulder, she chuckled and avoided its forehead coming a bit too fast in hers. Then, she plunged her hands in the water to wet her face and neck. That felt really good.

Vivian tied her neckerchief back while a plump red hen came pecking pebbles at her feet, fleeing when her horse stepped on the side; she snorted as her eyes followed the hen’s erratic dashes. Vivian enjoyed the calm ambient, the subtlety in details, but at the same time, she was recognising the work of this team, that department… Vivian grunted as she turned away from the daily life scene and leapt to her feet, startling her horse. She shouldn’t let her insider knowledge get in the way of what she came to do here, she shouldn’t "trash her own immersion" as much as she should be careful of what she was going to say, and to whom.

After this little clarification with herself, she brought her attention back to the people around her; the border between hosts and guests was finally getting a bit blurry — that guy who was scraping horse shit from his soles on the edge of the cantina’s boardwalk was just that, a man… And these kids, bickering around who would be the hunter in their next game of hide and seek, were all just kids. It was more pleasing to imagine oneself like a time traveler — she had to adapt to what was around her, not the other way around.

Her horse cut her thoughts short with a soft headbutt to her back, like a nudge to immerse herself back in and she took it to the hitching post, a few steps away; Vivian rolled the reins around the rod, searched in her saddlebag for a few coins she pocketed in her vest and walked without hurry to the cantina’s rickety tables. She pushed her holster back a little on her hip and sat on a chair. Even though she had spent the last few hours with her butt sticked to a saddle, she felt like it was the first time she was really sitting since the morning! Her shoulders stooped in relief and she stretched her legs with a grunt, propping one heel on the seat in front of her. 

"Shit…" she sighed between her teeth.

She noticed the three patrons at the closest table staring at her. When their eyes met, under the brim of her hat, they turned away, focusing back on their tumblers full of whisky and their domino game.

"What are you having, newcomer?"

Vivian almost jumped; the barkeep was standing right beside her, a dirty rag in his hands. His face was as weathered as the walls and he looked simply tired to be himself.

"Actually, I’m looking for someone," she explained.

The barkeep’s whole face wrinkled as he frowned, wincing a smile that was as embarrassed as it was embarrassing.

"What kind of someone?" he asked, cautious.

Vivian understood her mistake. It might not be the best way to break the ice to accidentally imply that she was a bounty hunter or something, as she suddenly realised. She tried to fall back:

"Someone with good knowledge of these parts to take me to Pariah without going in circles."

The barkeep couldn’t have looked more relieved had he cracked a fart, Vivian thought, her eyebrows raised in amusement.

"Oh," he said before flicking glances around. "You’re sure gonna find a great deal of good folks like that around!"

He gestured towards one of the domino players.

"Carlos, here, can take you. Hey, Carlos…"

That one turned a suspicious look towards Vivian’s table, but stood up anyway to step forward; he was the dirtiest of the three and under the brim of his own hat, his face had something alarming — maybe because of his broken nose and missing teeth. With a calm motion of her hand, she stopped him to make another step. Carlos froze, looking frankly disappointed and Vivian glared at the barkeep.

" Someone trustworthy."

Carlos grumbled and spat some black tobacco goo on the ground, through the spaces between his teeth before sitting back among his cackling friends. Vivian looked back to the barkeep who winced again awkwardly.

"D’you have that around here?" she quipped.

Far be it from her to be disparaging; she was only being playing the game… She figured out that the barkeep wasn’t a model of bravery, or honesty, and he needed to be pushed a little for her to get what she wanted. He shrugged, twisting his rag.

"Yeah, yeah," he assured her, nodding almost exaggeratedly. "Sure! There’s…"

He cleared his throat and one of his shaking hands flew from the rag to point her towards the stables — or at least what looked like it — opposing the cantina on the other side of the street.

"Thanks," she answered, almost ironically.

But he heard nothing of it, bobbing his head without adding a word before leaving for a table where a guy was calling for him loudly. Vivian stood up without haste, sparing her sore muscles useless efforts, before heading to the wooden awning. The street wasn’t very large between the cantina’s boardwalk and the stables and yet, she had time to come across enough people to wreck her immersion; two women were walking down the southern aisle, commenting almost out loud on the realism of the place. 

"Feels like the real thing!", a guy uttered as he caught up on them after having thanked a woman who had given him direction on the doorstep on her house.

The real what, exactly?!

It’s wasn’t like they were in the middle of Sweetwater, which was more or less the  park’s entry point, with all its market-tested banalities! No, this was one of these remote areas where things started to get a bit more "hairy" as Margaret said… "Epic", according to Thawal.

Basically, what the fuck were those tourists doing here, in this area of the park, if they weren’t going to forget, not even for a second, the limits of this questionable reality they were clinging onto at each step to focus on all the possibilities of where they were right now?

Vivian let out a slow sigh. She shouldn’t get angry, or judge; maybe these people lacked self-confidence — she knew all too well what a pain it could be — and were afraid to lose control; control of themselves, or the situation.

Vivian rubbed her neck under her kerchief and slowed down as she arrived in front of the stables. From there, exited a tall black guy with broad shoulders under his long duster, and with one look, he seemed to evaluate her from head to toe as he went past her, leading his horse by the bridle. He nodded to Vivian, and she nodded back. 

By the fountain where he hoisted himself in his saddle, several others came from the nearby street; she heard the guy giving orders to the troop gathering around him and they all went ahead, galloping towards the western gate, frightening the chickens away to the sides of the street, scattering their feathers as they flapped their flightless wings. A strange silence fell on the town after the riders disappeared.

Despite her being kinda bothered about "tourists", Vivian would admit that long-returning guests like that man with the duster, had an uncanny ability to blend themselves in the narratives, to make them theirs to the point of changing the entire thing sometimes. At least, until the next reset.

Vivian brushed her hair off her forehead under the brim of her hat to try to gather her thoughts, and courage, before stepping in the stables; two men had their backs turned, at the right of a bay horse’s tail, facing to talk to another Vivian couldn’t see, except for his worn hat between their heads. At the moment, he seemed more concerned about his saddle’s straps than about what the two other men were telling him on a hurried but hushed tone. Vivian couldn’t hear everything from where she was; one of them didn’t want him to leave, not now, and the other was arguing that it was exactly what "the other brother" was waiting for, that he should at least let them come with him…

The horse shifted its weight, nudging the man leaning on its croup — he and the other moved aside, clearing the line of sight to the third, someone Vivian recognised with no effort. Even dressed.

She sucked her teeth and wrinkled her nose as to hold back a laugh. But all cheerfulness vanished when the two men turned to her, almost threatening. Certainly surprised by the sudden silence, Lawrence then looked up, letting go of the straps he had just finished buckling around a Winchester scabbard.

"The fuck d’you want?" spat the one of the two with a big mustache and a split leather vest.

Vivian didn’t answer right away, and that silence prompted the other to slowly put his hand to the handle of a knife in his belt. The unspoken threat made Vivian’s heart rush. Yet, she kept her chill — way more than she imagined herself able to. So, she explained:

"The barkeep sent me here when I told him I was looking for someone trustworthy to take me to Pariah."

The one with the mustache glanced at Lawrence, himself staring at Vivian with an expression she could have qualified as grumpy or disappointed.

"I can pay, if that’s what concerns you," she added to break the silence before it settled.

Lawrence suddenly unfroze and shook his head, before checking a second time on the straps securing his rifles’ scabbard to the saddle.

"No," he grumbled. "Sorry, lady… You’ve been fed some bullshit."

He patted his horse and tugged a bit on his saddle blanket to adjust it.

"Thing is… I can’t right now."

He was playing "hard to get"! Vivian would’ve almost laughed at that. Not that she found it ridiculous or anything, on the contrary; it was nice, and unexpected!

Looking away towards a rider passing in the street near the awning, she nodded slowly, not repressing a smirk, and sliding her thumbs in her belt.

"Alright," she simply said. "Thanks anyway…"

Vivian waited for a second to pass in silence. None of them broke it until she added:

"Evenin’, gents…"

She tipped her hat; one of the men nodded as an answer and Vivian was already leaving the stables when she heard another swear a bunch, on a quiet tone. She was still repressing her smile when she reached the cantina to sit back at the same table, still available. This time again, she was more than happy to sit down.

Vivian threw a quick glance at the stables and snorted, amused. She easily guessed that he wasn’t engaged on any other narrative than his own for now but… she wouldn’t insist anyway. Maybe later? Or maybe she’d follow him and pretend to come across him somewhere along the way… Vivian had nothing outlined, really, and she didn’t want to outline anything. She, too, would improvise!

The barkeep finished to fill a glass at the nearest table and walked to Vivian’s to whom he asked:

"Something to drink, after all?"

He shook the brownish alcohol bottle he had in his hand.

"Cider, you have that?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure! I-I’ll get it now…"

And without waiting for any approval or comments, he left for the inside of the cantina. Vivian let out a long sigh; every intentions put aside, it was a nice moment to spend in the coolness and the calm of this small town between the hills. At the southern gate, the entrance of a cart pulled by a prancing donkey caught Vivian’s attention but she turned away from it as the barkeep was coming back already, holding a clay bottle and one small glass, same as for the other patrons, barely bigger than a shot.

"Did… did you find what you were looking for?" he asked, opening the bottle.

"You can say that…"

The barkeep didn’t comment and poured a glassful of dark cider, generous enough to spill all over the table — she guessed that it was a dry one but she hoped it would also be a good one. She nodded, thanking him silently, and the barkeep went back inside. A second had barely passed and a man stood up from his table to come and sit in front of Vivian who was trying her best to raise her glass without spilling more; she only acknowledged him with a curious eye while working on the careful rise of her almost-a-shot of cider.

"Heard ye're lookin’ for someone to get ya to Pariah, over there?" he jabbered with a thick accent.

Vivian didn’t answer, watching him above the back of her own hand as she was swigging a good half of her drink; his skin was tanned under his salt-and-pepper beard, his eyelids heavy and his eyes yellowish.

"Ah can take ya there,” he continued under Vivian’s scrutiny. “Less than three days!"

He nodded vigorously.

"Truth be told, ah did it on the way in awright," he completed, without taking note of Vivian’s stubborn silence. "Gimme first half now and the rest as soon as—"

He never finished his sentence, pulled out of his chair by the grip of another man who tossed him aside without a word; he almost fell over but didn’t complain, and on the now available seat settled Lawrence. The expression on his face was a subtle mix between annoyance and remorse and Vivian only raised an eyebrow while putting her glass down on the table.

"My apologies for my bad manners, before," he said, not looking her in the eye for too long. "My cousins and I… we didn’t agree on somethin’."

Vivian didn’t reply and leaned back in her chair… now that she could take her glass without spilling it everywhere.

"I take it you want to go to Pariah?"

It wasn’t really a question, and Vivian didn’t reply to it either, holding his stare. The barkeep was coming back to their table anyway, a bottle and a glass in his hands. However, he didn’t say anything as he poured the whisky in the glass he had put in front of Lawrence who asked again:

"Why is it you want to go there?"

This time, it was a real question. The barkeep had a knowing grin for Vivian before walking away; he was so proud of himself, that one!

"I… I’m supposed to meet someone," she answered, looking back at Lawrence. "Someone who… who owes me."

Vivian clenched her teeth, and her fingers on her glass; it was only half a lie, as she’d find an outpost somewhere around the town but still, she lied. And, herself, she wasn’t proud of that.

The truth was that she had planned her starting point, but not her arrival.

But the answer seemed to convince Lawrence — at least, enough for him to recline in his chair, an arm resting on the table. Without taking his eyes off Vivian, he was tapping with his fingers on the scratched, stained table, next to his glass he still hadn’t touched yet. Vivian enjoyed that detail in his bearing; she could guess that he was thinking. About what, she wasn’t sure, but she was eager to hear what he’d chose to answer.

"If I may," he started with caution. "I don’t think this is a good place for someone… someone like you…"

He waved towards her in a lazy move, still close to his glass. And Vivian wasn’t expecting such a comment. She even doubted that it was part of his standard library; so, her surprised was perfectly honest.

"I can take care of myself!" she bristled.

Again, Lawrence shook his hand and smiled a little, nodding.

"Don’t get me wrong," he tempered. "It’s just that… you might be too polite for a lot like these ones."

Vivian’s puzzlement was unending. Frowning, she heard him adding:

"I only hope you know what to expect over there. But, then again… ain’t my business! I’m goin’ there today."

He picked his glass and took it to his lips.

"And I wouldn’t mind havin’ some company, after all."

Then, he emptied his whole drink in one go. Vivian nodded, tapping with her fingers on the base of here own glass; she displayed some sort of disinterest, like she was totally not impressed while, in fact, her nervousness was starting to take over. It was so different than being in analysis, in the controlled environment of her lab, she realised that too — she was the one in his world, now…

And things wouldn’t be as easy as they looked like. Not for her, anyway. However, she managed to let no more than a few seconds pass before recovering her ability to speak:

"Perfect."

Finishing what cider remained in her glass, Vivian thought how much her own improvisations were about to be wicked awful. She put her glass back down, without a sound.

"The question is," she continued carefully. "How much do you want?"

This elicited a genuine but quiet laugh from Lawrence; he watched her for a second, still smiling. But as much as his sudden cheerful mood was catching, Vivian was wondering what was so funny in what she said.

"A whisky before we leave and somethin’ of the kind when we’re there sounds fair to me," he declared, with a look around the boardwalk of the cantina and the surroundings of the fountain behind Vivian. "It will at least take us two days to get there."

He nodded towards someone out of Vivian’s sight before adding:

"If you need supplies, now’s the right time to think about it."

Vivian agreed — aside from a can of water and a travel kit that, in all honesty, was more of a survival kit, she had nothing in her saddlebags.

"Thanks," she said, simply because she had no idea what else to say — and because she was too polite. "Mister… ?"

Lawrence lowered his head and shook his hand, lazily.

"No, no, please…" he replied, a frown on his face but without any real annoyance. "We’re in for quite a trip together, you can call me Lawrence."

Vivian nodded.

"I’m Ivy…"

It was her real nickname — one her few friends had given her and that she adopted fondly. In front of her, Lawrence leaned towards the table to hold out his hand, palm open as though he had a change of heart about payment. But Vivian got it; he was offering her to shake his hand. And a smiled appeared on his lips as she did.

"Nice meetin’ you, Ivy…"

His politeness effort didn’t slip past Vivian who, even though she appreciated it, couldn't ignore a twinging thought; should she come back in the park after this visit, he wouldn’t remember her… and this "first encounter" would become one among many that only she would remember. That, even with the help of her script.

Lawrence let go of her hand before standing up.

"I’ll be at the stables," he said. "Got some stuff to deal with before leavin’, too."

"Very well."

She observed him as he walk towards a young man, hopping up and down with anxiety and he started to talk really fast to Lawrence as he arrived. The boy was radiating so much stress and guilt that Vivian felt nervous just to look at him. She turned away to see the barkeep coming her way. Without even waiting for him to give her the prices of the drinks, Vivian dropped a few coins next to the empty glasses.

"Keep the change," she muttered as she stood up too.

"Oh, thanks!" he replied, visibly pleased, gathering the coins without waiting. "Safe travel and come back soon!"

She replied with a simple, tight smile before walking down the street to the western gate, towards what looked like a grocery store.