Hey there fellow Fallout fans!
I'm rather nervous about this. My first ever attempt at fanfiction! Ugh feels like a hoard of bark scorpions scuttling about in my stomach. Anyway, seeing as I am in essence, a little pathetic newbie at this, I'm very open to suggestions and advice!
I know this isn't much and it doesn't even set the scene very well but things get better in the next chapter. I think so anyway. I don't even know, haha.
Speaking of which, I'm hoping to have the next chapter or two up before next Wednesday.
It wasn't love at first sight. Arcade was too much of a realist for something like that. Oh, it was a nice concept alright, but the chances of it being actual love were next to impossible. Love was an emotion that is built up over time, through experience. Perhaps the world they lived in, the desperation to survive every day drove people into making assumptions, to cling to the nicest or what appeared to be the safest soul they could find.
Either way, Arcade didn't believe in such silly motions.
That wasn't to say he wasn't adverse to the idea of lust at first sight. Now that was something that was scientifically plausible and had certainly happened to Arcade on more than one occasion. The latest prime specimen of 'tall, dark and handsome' to wander into the Old Mormon fort had certainly stirred up interest in the scientist. He leant around the corner of the tent he was sitting in, curious as to the commotion; loud barking, a shrill scream and...good Lord was that Julie Farkas laughing?
As he leant back in the creaky little chair he usually occupied, Arcade briefly wondered if he needed his ears regularly checked as well as his eyes. Julie never laughed. It wasn't often that the woman so much a smiled these days; usually looked tired and haggard and just plain fed up with the state of affairs in Freeside. But that noise, it had been one of joy. Had she snapped? Arcade wouldn't be surprised if she had.
He was startled from his thoughts by a cold, slightly damp nose pressing against the palm of his hand. Blinking down in surprise, he was greeted by a rather adorable set of eyes. "Hello Rex. Not feeling so good boy?" The dog whined, resting its head against Arcade's thigh and huffing. Amused, Arcade scratched the small area around his ears that were still fleshy and furry, wondering why the King had brought him back. It was a shame that the dog was dying, yes, but Julie had told the King before that there wasn't anything she could do for the animal and he had (begrudgingly, Arcade assumed) accepted that.
Lost again in his thoughts, Arcade didn't notice the dog nosing into his pocket and carefully biting down around a couple of energy cells before suddenly bolting back out the tent flap. Slapping a hand to his pocket, Arcade almost swore, clambering to his feet to chase the cyberdog down. "Hey! Hey get back here!" Energy cells were hard to get unless you slinked inside the Silver Rush and Arcade wasn't rather fond of doing so. Why the hell had the dog taken them anyway? Its not like the King needed them for anything. Maybe the poor creature was finally going insane.
"What have you there Rexy? Energy Cells?" Arcade stumbled to a halt, at the sight in front of him. The man was almost as tall as himself, bare apart from a very worn down pair of pants from a merc. outfit, crouching down to gently take the ammunition from the dog's mouth and grimacing a little with saliva now coating the tips of his fingers. "Where on Earth did you get these?" He straightened up to his full height and Arcade allowed himself to look with eager eyes, the only excuse he could concoct being scientific interest. He wondered briefly if the man was NCR; that was definitely a body sculpted by military training or very extensive travelling and fighting. Scavengers rarely had muscle on the upper body, neither did traders. Strong muscles shifted under tanned skin that was caked with dried blood, dust and grime. Scars cross-crossed over several areas, some neat, obviously surgical whilst others were jagged and wild; battle scars. Arcade let his gaze drift up from a set of narrow hips, over the rather attractive panes of his chest, where he noticed a rather nasty gash going from collar bone to about mid-abdomen, before moving to his neck, where he promptly stalled. More scars, theses ones obviously from a collar. A slave collar. They were old, much older than the other scars, perhaps as old as the man himself. God did they look painful, the scar tissue like small gorges, deep and appearing rough like bark. Now with a slight frown, Arcade returned to his curious examination, moving up to the sharp angles of the stranger's face. Light coating of dark stubble around his jaw, a crooked nose (obviously broken a fair few times) and a set of...oh my. A set of incredibly blue eyes staring at him with an expression that could only be called intense. If Arcade were a lesser man, he would have probably felt a little weak at the knees. A very well kept pre-war hat sat atop a head of what appeared to be dark brown hair. "Are these yours?"
"What? Uh, ah...um, yes." Well done Arcade. You sounded as articulate as a dying radroach. Clearing his throat, Arcade took a step forward, holding out his hand and trying his best to smile charmingly. "Arcade Gannon, I...ew." Though not exactly pleased that he didn't get any further than merely stating his name, Arcade was rather pleased he had his Energy Cells back. Though he would have rather them without the dog spit. But he couldn't complain, not when this stranger was looking at him like a wounded animal, eyes wide and looking rather sad before suddenly beginning to speak quickly in a gravelly voice. "I'm so sorry! I've only just started teaching Rex how to search for ammo, and I probably should have told him taking it from other people is bad. I'm really sorry, here take this to make up for it and for the uh... the slobber." Rummaging in the pack at his feet the stranger pulled out a neatly wrapped bundle of...something. It was oozing whatever the hell it was and Arcade wasn't too sure if he was willing to accept something dripping with...was that blood?
Seeing Arcade's worried expression, the stranger chuckled and shook his head. "It's Brahmin meat. I'll cook it and come back with steak if you'd rather." Visibly relaxing now he knew what it was, Arcade slipped the Energy Cells into his pocket (grumbling quietly to himself at how damp they were) and politely took the packages. "Share them about or keep them to yourself whatever suits you." He grinned, a flash of white teeth and Arcade was momentarily stunned by how feral yet attractive the expression looked upon this man. "Well, I need to go pester Julie into cleaning me up. Can't put a shirt on until this it sorted. Come on Rex!" He turned around, picking up the pack in one hand and gesturing for Rex to follow with the other. Arcade watched on, still holding the wonderfully fresh smelling Brahmin meat in his hands as he ducked into a tent with Julie.
What a strange encounter.
That man was...it was hard to explain. He wasn't one solid thing, seemed to have rotated through a series personalities in a matter of seconds. He was child-like, seemed rather cheerful and confident but there was something about him, something about the way he held himself and in those eyes that was...frightening, to be honest. It was almost wild, the same feeling you get when seeing a wild dog lope past. It looked interesting enough, and it probably wouldn't hurt you as long as you left it alone, but the uncertain danger was still there, the possibility for it to turn around and suddenly go for the jugular. Such a combination of traits never usually spelled good news for other people. These sorts of people usually ended up falling apart at the seams of the mind and they tended to try and drag others with them down into the pit of insanity.
He may have been nice to look at but with a conclusion like that, Arcade was happy to admit that he wasn't upset the stranger was gone.
If asked then at that exact moment in time whether Arcade thought he'd ever end up falling in love with such a man, he would have snorted and waved a dismissive hand. No no, of course, not. Sure he was nice to look at, but looks certainly weren't everything (though they did help). This man was too... too fluctuating, too strange and far too intense. The handsome ones are always insane or dangerous or both.
Funny how things turn out.