Lutra was born of sin to be devoted to God as an act of forgiveness for her mother’s sinful ways. Like a mother, like a daughter, they say? Well, her little Lutra has been bound to decadence, the pleasures of the flesh, and racy behavior from the very day she left her mother’s womb.
The Singularity Order, discipline, and nuns weren’t the life meant for Lutra Page. She preferred the warm and sweaty embrace of men rather than God. Moreover, when those fuckers are willing to pay for her nimble lascivious moves, the better.
Godless Daughter of New Vegas
Lutra’s mother was an overtly pious novice of the Singularity Order, serving the uncompromising deity of strict rules and even stricter measures. Her life was bound to discipline and obedience — the path of the holy is adorned with thorns, they used to say. Yet still, even the holy are sometimes prone to stumbling.
There must’ve been something carnal rooted deep in their bloodline, I suppose — something so powerful, drawing all the female descendants to the arms of sin… of men. Lutra’s mother was no different. Despite her pious efforts, she ended up knocked up, with her daughter on her way, as her admissions to the Singularity Order were peaking.
The girl cried alive. Must be gone. Her body and soul are the fruits of sin. However, even the most unforgiving divinity offers room for avoiding the worst punishments — at least, so preach the holy. Especially if it serves their benefit, there is always another way — either dead or devoted to God, thus were the choices for Lutra’s fate. Quite naturally, Lutra’s mother chose the latter. Little did they all know how dramatically Lutra Page would turn the tables. More so, dance on them.
Gamble or die? Lutra taking over
One night, she woke up. Her chamber was cold, her body sore from the signs of Lord's unconditional love. The nuns weren’t easy on her. The wages of sin, they would say, right after beating the devil out of her sinful shell of a body. The whiplashes still stang a good deal, and her back burned. Lutra refused to live like that anymore. If she’s been made of sin and meant for sin — as the nuns emphasized while feeding her with punishments — let’s make a living out of sin, she reasoned.
Still tenderly wreathed in her nightgown, she sneaked out of her bed. Her bare feet fit the stone tiles, icy and uncompromising like the whole monastery. Lutra shivered. Then yawned wearily. It was just a few minutes past midnight. She could hear the raging snores of the nuns from an adjacent cell. They reminded her of the cruelest depictions of demonic creatures her betters were teaching her about.
Silently, Lutra crossed her tiny cell and opened a drawer, a wooden, austere-looking piece of beaten-up furniture. Slowly, with the utmost care, she put on her dress — a rough fabric was painfully scratching against her bruised skin. Lutra straightened up, breathed in, then out, taking all the courage she could muster. Suddenly she knew that this was the last time she was wearing a dress reaching below her knees.
Carefully she unlocked the door. It took a trick to get hold of a key to her cell, indeed. That repulsive taste of bitter-salty liquid still lingered in her mouth as she recalled the janitor’s face distastefully wrinkled with forbidden pleasures. Never mind, this is how girls of sin do their job, right? — Lutra marveled as she spat a puddle of bubbly saliva on her palm and smeared it right across the stern-faced icon of the lord desperately hanging off the wall right next to her.
“Bye, fella, have a nice time with nuns,” she muttered inaudibly as she left the unmoved features of the Lord consumed by the omnipresent darkness.
Adrenaline flooded her veins. Her heartbeat paced up like an executioner’s drumroll. In the midst of the night, every little rustle of her dress, every silent whisper of a fan racing through the chilling corridors resounded like a squealing siren. Her shallow breath dinned annoyingly deep within her head. They won’t catch me, they can’t… she reckoned desperately as she was speeding up through the confusing web of gloomy corridors.
She finally reached the gate — a tremendously ominous portal leading out of this hellhole. It spired high in its dark magnificence. A pitch-black metal towered threateningly, telling her all the worst abominations void of words. Every slur, every insult nuns have ever cursed her sinful origin with, suddenly burst out in her head. Leaving the monastery behind, cloaked in the black claws of an unrelenting night shroud, Lutra Page felt like the arch-whore, but finally free.
Neon-lit delights and pleasures of the flesh
Lutra shuddered as she handed a cashier the last few coins she had stolen from the monastery. Insecurely, she boarded the early morning train straight to New Vegas. After all, that’s exactly where her mother conceived her, back to where it all begins.
The dark of the night started to give way to the first beams of sunrise. Desperately tired, she leaned her head against the soft headrest and slipped away into a dreamless slumber. First time in her life, she fell asleep knowing that no one would wake her in the midst of a crippling nightmare just to whip her for her sins.
Suddenly she twitched awake. A raging chaos of colors invaded her perception. She’s never seen so much light and color huddled in one place in her whole life. New Vegas squeezed her in a welcoming embrace as the train made it to the overcrowded station. Lutra took off and jumped on the tide. New Vegas contained her. The very essence of this shiny neon-lit metropolis of gambling, sex, and neverending parties was completely aligned with her decayed soul.
Lutra wasn’t quite sure how did she make it. The competition of girls coming to New Vegas in vain hopes of selling their moves ‘round the pole was nearly innumerable. There were so many of them while none of them were constantly chastised for their impurity. Lutra’s rivals were emanating with sex drive. Yet still, it was she who got the job. And soon enough, she made her way up to the top as a most sought-after strip club dancer.
And Lutra loved it, basking in the male attention, she gave in to her decadent inklings completely. She ditched her old wardrobe for more suitable attire. No matter where her steps led her, Lutra Page favored her skirts shorter than her temper, adorned with shiny embellishments, a sluty choker around her neck, and patterned stockings reflecting her knack for creative designs. Well, she is indeed creative when it comes to her snaking ways of life.
Taking hold of her dominant position on the market, soon enough, she started to take advantage of men in so many ways. Lutra felt happy for the first time in her life. So far, the opposite gender meant so much confusion in her life - the discrepancy between religious teachings and the unquenchable urge of lust and wanton was the constant struggle she couldn’t put to an end.
Finally, Lutra Page found solid ground, making a living out of carnal passions while robbing those naive beings of whatever of value she could find on them. It didn’t take that long for her to get well-acquainted with another like-minded soul. Not seldom, Tara Clarke, a famed hustler of Nyan Garden, showed up in the busy streets of New Vegas. Needless to say, these two found common ground quickly - Lutra provided goods stolen from her clients, while Tara made sure to turn them into big bucks on the market. It worked surprisingly well.
Until they attracted the unwelcome attention of the feared and revered crime-hunter Nick Gray…
From Slut to Mercenary - the rise of Lutra Page
Lutra turned to a side in bed. Her new acquaintance was breathing deeply, slowly slipping away to the gates of sleep. She regarded him with a longing look. This one was actually quite good, she pondered as she made sure that her client is already asleep.
Despite being advised against doing so, sometimes she just let customers she danced for the whole night accompany her to her home and beyond. And sometimes, it was worth the risk. For instance, this comely gentleman was so fun to play with. Even more fun to have a quick sneak peek into his pockets. Slowly her bare feet touched the floor. A soft and warm carpet met the delicate skin of her soles - not like that icy stone tiling of the monastery.
Silently she took a few steps to a helter-skelter pile of scattered clothes. What’s his name? Lutra couldn’t tell. Not now - just take whatever that’s of value and vanish before too late.
Some cash, no credit card, a nice and expensive-looking knife, and a collectible lighter. Nothing more. Quite disappointed, she pocketed her loot. Honestly, she thought more highly of her latest fuck-toy. The way he sports his attitude and orders fancy drinks for the whole table made her believe that this guy’s wallet will be apt to be milked too.
Never mind, there are so many more to go…
…suddenly she tensed up. In her greedy reveries, she forgot to pay attention to the little nuances in the room. A grave mistake. Lutra fell through a gap between her heartbeat as a long shadow surged her in from behind. Fuck!
“I took this one from Fang. Hope you like it,” his voice resounded, “it earned me some scratches.”
“I… didn’t mean to...” Lutra trailed off. That piece of trivia with Fang had a particularly salty tinge. Well, Lutra had her deal of fun with the Whaleland’s ruler of the night. She only had no clue that the bane of criminals is also going after her now…
“You don’t have to explain yourself, Lutra.”
How come he knows my REAL name, Lutra pondered, frightened and completely flabbergasted.
“I’m afraid this conversation wouldn’t be balanced anymore if I kept my true name to myself, Lutra,” he spoke again, “I’m Nick Grey. I believe you have already heard of me.”
Lutra Page froze alive for the first time since she fled the monastery. Past nightmares got suddenly resurrected, eating her away, paralyzing her, making her numb and dull. Nick Grey was already a legend. Along with his platoon of a self-appointed crime fighters, he haunted every illegal bar, every gang, and every club.
“In a loss for words?” Nick frowned mockingly. Only his eyes smiled with sparks of boyish joy - Got you! - they screamed. Instinctively, Lutra plunged toward to door. She’s been through encounters like this before. Quickly she tugged at the door knob.
The door stayed unmoved.
“You were too busy shamelessly looking for valuables in my pockets when you should be looking for this,” Nick raised his hand with a key in it. Screw him! Moreover, that heaven-like calmness in his voice was killing her. Providing he’s here to hunt her down, his overall attitude was irritatingly composed. Such a damn psychopath, fuck that guy…
“You know,” Nick prolonged his monologue, ”I reckon you’re scared to death right now. So many of your foul kind fell under my command. But even to my own surprise,” he paused just to take a step toward Lutra and grab her arms, “I’m not here to kill you. Really. I’m seeking your help.”
“I guess I already did, ”Lutra uttered bitterly, “with your balls empty now, you can focus on chasing the ones of my foul kind.”
“No more. Midnights are plotting against me. They want my head.”
“How surprising.”
“Don’t be such a bitch. You can talk to them, I know you have warm contacts,” he stopped to rethink how to continue, “I believe your dear friend Tara is right now going through some dire times.”
“Fuck you!” Lutra spat.
“Don’t worry. My guys won’t harm her… as long as you’re willing to play along.”
“Talk to who?” hearing of Tara’s fate, Lutra started to give compliance a second thought.
“Hackhunters.”
The word filled the room with an oppressive silence. With no further due, they both left the room. They caught the first train to South Moon. The Doctor is certainly going to have a hard time performing some high-tech advancements on both of them. But what would be too much to save your best friend’s ass? Thus, Lutra Page became a feared mercenary just to help Nick Grey out and save Tara Clarke.
