Because Veronica deserves some better endings.
Also Lonesome Road in a week :( I don't want to run out of story DLC!
Edit: WHOOPS you didn't see that
There were eight files on the desk in front of her. Eight files for eight people, each detailing one of the eight potential candidates to take on the role of head of the police.
The files weren't particularly well put-together, mostly hand-written notes of reference, hastily-summarised notes about roles and responsibilities, a handful of service records, all with the King's scrawling annotations of approval all over them.
The words started fading into a grey sludge.
The buzz of the intercom made her sit bolt upright. She blinked muzzily. "What?" she asked.
"Hey!" the voice on the other end sounded like Veronica. "Wanna get really drunk?"
"Ronnie, you're meant to let reception call me," she said mildly, picturing Veronica leaning over the reception desk, feet off the ground and holding the receiver to her ear.
"Aww, she said it was fine," Veronica said. "So, up for it? I brought some booze."
"Who am I to turn down an offer like that?" she asked. "Come on up."
Veronica was in disguise, which meant she was wearing a heavy brown leather jacket and jeans, and a baseball cap pulled down low to hide her face. There was a bottle of scotch in her hand, which she handed to Verity proudly. "I figure, since we always end up drinking your alcohol, I should bring something myself once in a while."
Verity grinned. "I think I could be drunk literally all the time for the rest of my life and never get through all the bottles in this building," she said. "But thanks!"
She filled two glasses with ice from the fridge, and poured the scotch over the top. Veronica took one from her and gulped it down. Verity shrugged, followed suit, and filled the glasses again.
"So," said Veronica. "What are you up to tonight?"
Verity rolled her eyes ."I have to narrow these eight-" she gestured to the pile that she'd left on the low table in front of the couch –"down to two. Maybe three. They need to be someone trustworthy, that people can respect and rely on."
"I think," said Veronica. "That we should tape them all up to the wall and throw darts at them. Easiest selection method ever."
"I don't have any darts," Verity said sadly. "I guess we could shoot lasers. But that might burn the whole lot and then I still wouldn't know."
Veronica sat down on the couch and lifted her feet onto the table. "Well then, make Primm Slim do it. Best thing you ever did for that town."
Verity grinned. "Robots solve everything! Except the problem of 'too many robots'."
Veronica leaned over. "Do they have photos? If they had photos I could tell you which one to pick. I've got a good eye for people's faces."
"You'd just pick the prettiest."
"I would not," she said. "You can't say that, it's defamation. You can go to jail for that."
"We don't have a jail," Verity grumbled. "All we have is a hastily-repurposed building which doesn't have locks on it yet."
"You could just ask people nicely not to leave the building. Honour code. I'm sure it'll work."
Verity shuffled over to give Veronica more space on the couch.
Verity sighed. "They're all good. I like-" she rifled through the folders –"this one. Stella. Doesn't give a last name. Did some sheriffing up north. And this one too – uh, Nikki Darkwater, from some place out west. Seems like her whole family's in the law business."
"Solved!" Veronica took the files out of her hands and dropped them on the table. "So what now?"
"We get really drunk?" Verity's brow crinkled.
"Good plan!" she refilled the glasses. "But I meant with your sheriffs."
"Oh. We bring them in for interviews. It's a long trip for a lot of them, though I'll probably end up hiring most of these people in one job or another. You just have to get the right person for the right job, you know?"
"Why don't you make Boone do it? He likes shooting things. Perfect police material."
Verity frowned. "I don't think he likes telling people what to do. It's a lot of responsibility, and he – I don't know. He likes things to be simple. And he second-guesses himself a lot, though he's getting better about it. I don't think he'd… trust himself to do it. If that makes sense." She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Plus Arcade says I'm not allowed to just hire my friends to do everything. It 'erodes trust in the legitimacy of the regime' apparently."
"I guess that makes sense. It's not really that democratic to just nepotism all over the place. Where is Boone tonight, anyway? Off dancing?"
Verity sighed. "He has to check in with the embassy down on the Strip quite a lot so they know I haven't brainwashed him or something. It's hard to… balance." She shrugged. "Harder for him, though, I guess. I'm a security risk."
Veronica tilted her head enquiringly. "Things going okay?"
"Things are… weird." Verity looked down at her nails. "I don't think – I don't think our lives go that well together. Two different worlds, you know?" She looked up. "Plus he doesn't want me to go adventuring any more. Which is, honestly, probably a fair call. I just get bored."
Veronica raised an eyebrow. "What are you planning on doing after this?" she asked slowly. "Like, after you step down or whatever."
"Ugh." Verity shuddered. "I've been trying not to think about it. I don't even know. Start accepting delivery orders again?"
"So, no plans to settle down?"
Verity grinned. "You gonna make an honest woman of me?"
Veronica touched her fingers to her lips. "Not me."
The smile on Verity's face faded. "Oh. Oh. You mean… you think…"
"I'd be surprised if he wasn't – you know. Planning on settling down somewhere. I always picture him, like, on a farm. Getting old sitting on the front porch in a rocking chair with a rifle to shoot at geckos, or I guess 'those damn kids who keep getting onto his lawn'. "
Verity stared. "That's very… detailed."
"I have a vivid imagination. Also there'll probably be a whole lot of babies. Do you like babies?"
"Um. Not really?"
"Yeah, me neither." Veronica shrugged. "I mean they're cute and all, but ugh, the crying and the screaming and how they leak fluids everywhere just puts me right off."
Verity tossed back the rest of her drink. "I don't think I want to think about that right now," she said. "I'll deal with that when it comes up. How are things with you and Christine, anyway?"
Veronica gave her a bright, brittle smile. "Uh… there really isn't a 'me and Christine,'" she said. "I mean she- she's always put the Brotherhood first. That's where her first loyalty lies. No matter what happens, she's Brotherhood before anything else. And everything that comes with that." She tilted her glass back again. And she's involved in some super-secret club." Veronica rolled her eyes. "Like, within the already super-secret club of the Brotherhood. It's like, super-secret-squared."
"Yeah?" Verity was intrigued.
"Circle of Steel," said Veronica. "They're the ones who sent her after Eld- Elijah. But that makes sense, I guess, because the rest of the Brotherhood is pretty much fine with living in a hole forever."
"What does it do?"
"I don't know," Veronica replied. "Something to do with being more active in the wasteland is all I've figured out. Chrissy won't tell me anything more. I think it might be because of – well, because of you. Us being friends."
"Sorry," said Verity. "For being a security threat. Seems like being close to me isn't really good for anyone's social life."
"Oh, whoa, hey." Veronica's eyes widened. "I didn't mean for it sound like that. I wouldn't trade you." She offered a lightning-fast smile. "More drinks?"
"You guys are weird." Verity watched Veronica refill her glass. "You're weird and you have weird rules. I mean, I guess they'd be useful at some point, like maybe if you're just starting out and there's radiation and monsters and assholes everywhere."
"We are pretty weird," Veronica said morosely. "I guess we just don't adapt. Even if the outside world builds back up to pre-war levels of tech, we'll just be sitting underground, or in a cave, or an old military complex, or anything we can find, hoarding all the energy weapons we can find and making sure no one else can have them."
Verity sat forwards. "And everyone would be like 'wooo, the caves are haunted' because you'd hear weird noises late at night and sometimes people would go missing if they were resourceful enough to get in."
"And we'd be like 'bomb collars for everyone!' and also all be related to each other." Veronica wrinkled her nose. "God. You know what the worst thing would be? Never seeing the sky. No stars, no sun. Just ventilation fans rotating forever. I hate being stuck down there. I just feel trapped, you know?" She sighed. "Trapped." She slumped forward, elbows on her knees.
"Smiling sad," said Verity, half to herself.
"What?" Veronica looked up.
"It's what the Forecaster said about you. Ages ago."
"Oh, you can't listen to that kid," she said half-heartedly. "He's sweet, but he's a little bit … well. Cracked."
"He was right about some things."
"Are you sure?" she asked. "Or was it vague enough to apply to anything? Confirmation bias. Gets them every time."
"He said we'd be friends. Well – actually, he said it was possible we'd be friends." Verity frowned.
"There we go." Veronica grinned. "See? I'm a friendly enough person, and then you do the rest yourself. Balance of probabilities."
"'Smiling sad' always struck me as kind of accurate, though," said Verity.
Veronica looked away. "I'm not sad."
"You're not happy."
"I'm – I don't know. It doesn't matter."
Verity watched her, concerned. "I think it does."
Veronica shrugged defensively. "We've been through this. There's nothing I can do. Brotherhood's family. You can't just walk away from your family. Swap them for a new one when it gets inconvenient."
"Yeah but you don't have to like, live with your family forever. You already spend as little time there as possible."
"Well what else can I do?" Veronica asked, irritation creeping into her voice. "The Brotherhood don't let you have dual citizenship, you're Brotherhood or you're an outsider. No halfway houses while you're trying to kick the Brotherhood habit."
"Okay, okay. I've been thinking about this for a while: what if I set you up with a workshop and a research and development budget?"
Veronica's eyes widened. "What?"
"Like I fund you to research things and make me cool stuff. I think you'd be good at it! Your skills are kind of wasted on hanging around the 188 organising food budgets and stuff."
"I – I thought you couldn't hire your friends to do things for you."
"That's public responsibility stuff. This is just me making the most of an underused resource. And you could take things back to the Brotherhood. But only if I agree to release them." Verity raised her eyebrows hopefully. "What do you think?"
"Well," Veronica began, slowly. "If it's okay with the Brotherhood, then… yeah. It'd be great to be… well, useful again."
Verity grinned. "That's great! Maybe you could share that huge building down by Vault 21 with that Michael Angelo guy."
"Ooh," said Veronica. "He's weird. Option B?"
Verity's grin turned savage. "Option B is I kick the NCR out of their embassy and you have that."
"Are things really getting that bad?" Veronica asked quietly.
"Mm-hmm. I think they're going to get a lot worse, too." Verity stared down at her half-empty glass. "I just can't think of a way around it. Still. Let's not think about that tonight. Pour some more drinks."
Veronica obliged.
