One hundred caps was a fair amount of money, and if one was clever, it would pay for a lot of things. Several nights at the Dugout complete food and drink, a full magazine's worth of bullets, or a couple of chems.
"That's crazy. I'm not going out there for anything less than three hundred caps."
It wasn't, however, worth leaving the safety of Diamond city to search for paint.
"Two hundred."
Heading out into the Waste was a daunting prospect for Nate, but the same could be said for anyone really. Diamond City, his current base of operation, was the hub of law, order, safety and baseball. Outside was a different story.
"Listen, you aren't paying me to just get you some paint. Just getting is to Hardware Town is risky, plus I have to deal with however many raiders are there. And assuming there's any paint left at all, hauling it all the way back. Now, am I getting those three hundred caps, or is the wall getting a fresh coat of crimson red?"
There was a second of hesitation before the answer. Nate could see very clearly that he had made the situation a hostile one. It was a dangerous move, which was going to lead to either jail time or the three hundred caps. He really didn't want to have to kill the older man if he could avoid it, he wasn't even armed, but if he called for the guards…
"Fine, you'll get your caps, now get going."
Despite the stern look the old man gave him, Nate kept his composure and left without another word, relieved and thankful that the threat had worked.
Beyond the walls of the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth the only law people followed was that of shotgun diplomacy. Raiders, Gunners, or plain desperate wanderers of the Waste; if one wasn't being gunned down by their fellow man, then they faced the fury of mother nature's irradiated creatures. The monstrous wildlife that prowled the land, hunting anything with a pulse and leaving nothing behind but a bloody mess. Given all that awaited him beyond the walls, it stood to reason that one hundred was nowhere near enough of a reward for him to risk his neck for a can of paint.
Every step was a dawdle as during his routine walk of the meagre selection of goods the markets had to offer. There was no rush to leave the city behind. He didn't believe himself merciless enough to even consider buying a "Swatter". Not one full of nails, or wrapped in barbed wire, or encased in metal; bludgeoning another man to death wasn't something he ever wanted to do again, not if he could help it.
A magazine was all from Commonwealth Weaponry, bought only to add to the small bullet collection he was building mag by mag. Ammunition was expensive in bulk, and there were never enough bullets stashed away to ease the fear of running empty in the heat of battle. The mean looking combat shotgun strapped to his back had one him more than a few firefights but chewed through the ammo reserves. As did the backup pistol holstered around his waist. The only weapon not taking a constant toll on his caps was the knife that accompanied the pistol. Dubbed the Last Resort, it was a new addition to the arsenal, once wielded by a raider who didn't quite understand that shotguns work best at close range. With a bit of cleaning and sharpening, it made a fine weapon.
Nothing needed to be built or repaired, his weapons and armor kept in constant top shape, so Myrna and her surplus of junk didn't get a look in. Instead, Nate made his way over to Chem-I-Care to find Solomon casually huffing jet and looking as relaxed as ever. Perfect timing.
"Your regular, Vault Dude?" In his chemmed up state, the question had taken three slow seconds, but the small payoff was worth it.
"No jet today. I need a shot of psycho if you have it."
"For you, two shots. For the price of one. Take'em or I will." Success. While high, Soloman was charitable to a near fault.
"You drive a hard bargain, Solomon. Here're your caps."
"Good. Now go do what you gotta do, I want some noodles." He brushed Nate aside and called across to Power Noodles, "Hey, Takahashi?! Takahashi! Yes!"
Delayed long enough, Nate eventually made his way up the steps, counting each one as he stepped closer to the main gate. His Pipboy had everything set for the violence that was to ensue. Vitals were stable, ammo was sufficient, and the map was marked for Hardware town. A quick nod to the guard had the gate lifted up and out of his way, it time to go fetch some paint.