It looked like those fancy restaurants she knew of back in the city. Not because she was posh enough to get to eat what they served, mind you! She had been used as a waiter in those. Her task was to guide people to their table, get them comfortable, order their food and see them out, with maybe a little cash on the side if she's pleasant enough. Far as jobs in this world come to, that was safe and easy. But it was stressful on its own. Managing all these tempers, chatting with them but not being too slow either, the occasional complaint because the client meant this and not that. And, well, she had foreseen herself as the wielder of a bigger destiny than this.
But here she was, sitting at one of those fancy tables close to the windows, all proper in her new shiny uniform. Next to her was her dad, shifting on his seat awkwardly. He was an older man now: His hair was all but gone, wrinkles marked his face, blending in with the few scars that he had over his face –a Nightstalker encounter, he'd tell you-. He had a long sharp nose, that she thought capable of piercing steel as a child, and a set of brown eyes kept half-close most of the time. His teeth, those that hadn't been blown off during some violent accident or encounter at least, were yellow enough to be mistaken for gold, and his lips were more ragged than the skin of a Deathclaw.
She couldn't help but focus on him and his trembling hands. How he looked like he was about to collapse even when sitting down. It was painful to behold, but none of the faceless people in the restaurant seemed to care. Though rather than being truly faceless, they were merely blurry. And so was the world outside, though she could tell by the blue sky and endless golden horizon that they were in the Mojave. Still, looking at it made her sick, so she turned around and tried to enjoy her surroundings, or at least enjoy the music.
It was coming from that jukebox over there, near the ghoul in black robes, below that Brahmin skull mounted to the wall. Out of it was jutting a most agreeable melody, which she caught herself listening to. As usual, Dad was silent, so there just wasn't much for her to do but enjoy the tune.
The roads are the dustiest
The winds are the gustiest
The gates are the rustiest
The pies are the crustiest
The songs are the lustiest
The Fiends are the cruelest
Way back home (back home)
"Welcome to La Fourchette Dorée." The waiter popped out in thin air in front of them, paper at the ready. He looked like the Lt. Deacon, mustache and all, but with the stern uniform traded for a classy tuxedo he could barely fit in. Very much unlike the actual man, his mouth was torn into a crescent smile, showcasing his pearly white teeth. Did it make the man look even more disagreeable? "We are grateful that you are too lazy and stupid to cook your own food. We'd be out of business without people like you!"
Max contemplated the menu in silence, before finally speaking up. "I'd like the Brahmin steak." She set down the menu. An easy choice: Brahmin Steaks were all that the restaurant had to offer after all.
"That was quick! But I'm sure your dad will still struggle with it."
She turned an eye to her father, who was babbling in front of the table, slamming his finger repeatedly into the table as he attempted to mutter to the waiter. A series of incoherent grunts escaped his mouth, and she could see Deacon's smile slowly widens as he pulled his head back. The more he did, the more his face stretched as if the flesh on it was finding itself out of space to cover. He luckily only had deep wrinkles all over his face to show for it, as well as black horizontal lines for eyes. "I… I… I want this!" Her father said.
"Very well. Will you both need refreshment? Oh, what am I saying?" Her father had grabbed a bottle of alcohol from out of nowhere and was already in the middle of draining it dry of its content, keeping his back arched over the couch where they were both sitting at. "Of course you don't!" That shaking from earlier was gone but he nonetheless drank with such wild abandon that the liquid spilled down his throat and cheeks, where it struck parts of the couch, instantly melting them down into a smoky mess. Max moved to the left to try to avoid the venom, but her movements were slow and awkward like a thousand hands were gripping her body to keep her in place. Her father kept drinking, remaining ignorant as the acid started to attack his flesh and insides, enough that she could see the alcohol flowing down to his stomach before the smoke completely masked him out of sight.
Such a horrifying sight was greeted with a forlorn look. What could she do to help, at this point? Max sighed. "Could… could I get water?"
"No." Deacon pointed at the table, and a full-grown Brahmin appeared, already laid on its white plate. That the Brahmin was very much still alive and breathing did not bother Deacon, who reached into his pocket to bestow an utterly massive knife unto Max. The long, jagged blade was bigger than her but she had no trouble in wielding it one-handed.
"The Brahmin should be dead." She questioned, raising the weapon high over her head with both hands already. In answer, Deacon the waiter sighed and jerked his thumb backward. A single non-blurry person in a chief outfit was unconscious on the floor, clutching his hat with one hand somehow. Even if she couldn't see his face, Max pinpointed the cook as the unconscious guard in Nipton.
"Well, the chief passed out!" He then pointed back at her. "But besides, you need to murder the Brahmin! It's capital that you do! Or else the Brahmin will kill you!" Max nodded, and swung the cleaver down, effortlessly decapitating the beast's massive head with one swift swing. After a few seconds of silence, the headless body of the bull simply laid down to the side, as if it were tired. After even more seconds of this, it started to bleed from the stump. But it wasn't simply blood: Small red ants were pouring out of the massive hole, deploying forth such massive numbers that one could mistake them from a regular stream of red cells at a first glance. The insects very quickly spread all over the beast and, after only a few seconds, had it reduced to a single red steak. Licking her lips, Max moved her hand to seize her reward.
"No!" Interrupted Deacon. "You will need to kill more of the Brahmins! You can only become a true warrior if you kill them all!" Max raised her head and discovered that a whole horde of Brahmins had sneakily replaced the original customers. They sat in their crushed seats, clumsily waged their tools or drinks, and even communicated together with primitive grunts, forming a cacophony of sounds that all but drowned out the original melody of the place. Seeing such overwhelming numbers, Max shrugged and threw away her sword. "What are you doing?! I am your commanding officer! I will have you murdered to death for this!"
"No you can't," Max pointed at him with a smug smirk. "I'm dreaming. I can do whatever I want while dreaming! See dad? I'm doing something!" She turned to the side, to see Emma staring back at her with a placid look, unfazed by the insanity around her.
"Max? Wake up, Max!" Max fluttered her eyes twice and was greeted by much thicker darkness than before. Gone were the restaurant and its oppressive lights. In their stead, there was a plain tent, filled to the brim with sleeping soldiers. Some slept directly on the ground, others were able to at least find some sheet or fabric to use as a rudimentary bed. As it happened, Max had been one of these, which was perhaps why she was only groggy after waking up, instead of exhausted and irritated.
On a lone table at the end of the room stood a single radio, playing the rest of "Way back home". Or she assumed that it was a radio: Her vision was a bit of a blur, and the darkness everywhere barely helped with identifying what actually was around her. It took her an embarrassingly long time for her to see a pair of legs right in front of her makeshift bed. Max briefly looked down, then remembered that most people are identified by their faces instead of their feet and immediately adjusted her gaze upwards to behold Emma. The older soldier had partly taken off the upper part of her uniform, leaving only a black tank-top while sparing the rest of the uniform from further modifications.
Of course, it was dark. Could be anyone else. But Max knew that muscular arms like these could only belong to her.
"Bad dreams?" Emma asked curiously. She held her hand as if offering it to Max. The younger woman sighed and grabbed it, allowing herself to be hoisted to her feet. If the bed had been slightly more comfortable, she would've fought to the death for the right to stay on it.
"… Yeah," Answered Max, after a long yawn. Emma remained silent but tilted her head to the side slightly, with an interested smirk on her. "I guess that I shouldn't have them this early on?" The freshly awakened soldier smiled in a slightly guilty manner like a child caught taking more candies than they were allowed to. Emma simply shook her head, moved her index to her lips in a shushing motion, and started to slowly walk out of the tent. Max imitated her, knowing that her friend wouldn't simply allow her to go back to sleep. On the way out, she turned to the radio and contemplated fetching it, but then grimaced and left. If Bob Crosby could give these men and women the peaceful dreams they needed, then who was she to take it all away?
Emma walked by effortlessly, instantly assessing where she could put her foot down and where not to, allowing her to simply walk through the living minefield with no issue. Max, on the other hand, leaped from a point to another, keeping herself steady on the tips of her shoes. She briefly felt proud of her amazing ability not to disturb a whole lot of sleeping soldiers. They looked to be sleeping in two tents at the edge of the town. Max would question the tactical brilliance of sleeping like that when Novac had no barriers or walls to prevent outlaws and enemies from attempting to do something really stupid, but in the corner of her eyes, she could see pair of awake troopers scattered across the camp. Some were turned outwards at the larger wastes but a lot of them were guarding the tents and especially a larger one, a bit deeper in Novac, where she assumed their weaponry had been stocked. Four troopers patrolled around it carefully, keeping an eye out for any potential thief. And yes, thieving was a problem, but she was nonetheless surprised that so many folks would guard the main tent.
Still, there was only so much she could wonder about. Her mind still hazy, the young woman followed her friend to the gate of the motel. Emma simply sighed, took out a hairpin from her pocket, and approached a metallic fence that separated the motel's court from the rest of the town. Already fairly dubious, Max was surprised to see her friend casually swing the door open. Well, it made sense that it could be opened in case someone needed a stroll, but she wouldn't feel safe sleeping in a motel where technically anyone could walk in.
But that was perhaps her civilian instincts speaking. Buildings in Shady Sands all had these heavy metal gates that could only be briefly opened through the use of a code, or via the use of more explosives than the average Powder Ganger could fetch. It was a bit excessive, of course, but it was a way for the good citizens of the NCR to sleep soundly, knowing that no one could simply pick the locks and sneak in to steal their hard-earned dollars, though some instead merely restricted their paranoia to everyone inside the building. As for children, they were told that the gates were meant to protect them from the "President".
The "President", as she remembered it, was a bogeyman. Unlike the "good" leader of the NCR with the same title, this particular Politician was wicked and cowardly, seeking to attack the innocent children of the NCR as revenge for some past defeat. Fearing the light of the sun, the President instead lurked around at night to attack children who were up past their bedtime and out in the streets. It worked well on a young Max and her friends. Perhaps a little too well, since the children, when it was about to get dark, would often head out as a group to the nearest available home. Often, Max would have to beg her father to let her group of friends stay for the night, fearful that they'd be eaten by the evil beast on the way home. Of course, as her father got… worse and as they grew older, this practice vanished.
Seeing that a motel had such meager defenses, in a world such as this one, where actual bogeymen could snatch children at any moment was an odd realization to her.
Well, that and also it was perhaps vaguely illegal to just train in the court. It wasn't just the rooms: Several smaller houses were jutting around. What would happen to them if one of the people inside decided to chase them out of the court?
"Wow, they do a good job cleaning the place," Emma stood in the middle of the courtyard, her hands on her hips as her eyes searched for anything dangerous to land on. "There's a giant lizard on the backdrop, everyone's asleep, there are not too many bottles of whiskey…" She gave a quick kick to one such bottle to send it elsewhere before turning to Max. "... Ok, hey, Max. Land a punch on me."
Max turned to Emma and observed her briefly. When her interlocutor failed to make any sort of follow-up on her remark, the young woman leaned to the left, simulated cleaning her left ear, and leaned back in. "A punch, Max." Said Emma, placidly. "You know, those movements you do with your fist? I want you to try to land one on me. I'm also going to try to do the same. It'll be up to you to dodge my attacks and find an opening." Already, the dark-haired woman entered a fighting stance, with her fists held up in a manner that indicated business.
"H-hey!" Max stammered out, taking several steps back. "What's the big idea? I just need to shoot them, right? No need to learn anything too complex when I can just-" The soldier moved her arms to hold an invisible rifle, simulated shooting by jerking her arms back and forth for two seconds, and then lowered the "rifle". "-Do that. What are they gonna do to fight back, chuck their spears or machetes at me?" Her derisive chuckle was met with silence, and eventually died out after a few seconds.
"Right. Like they'll let you do that," Emma rolled her eyes. "Well first off, Legionaries can and will fight with guns at higher levels. And even the grunts will get smart to even the field. They'll ambush you, force a fight somewhere where it's easier to swarm or they'll use shock tactics to demoralize you before charging in. Either way, you will fight up-close with one of them. And not many of the troopers in the Mojave can live to tell that tale," She lowered her arms and sighed, in annoyance. "They're grunts with a fanatical devotion to Caesar and actual training to back it up. They're stronger and faster than you are and their machetes may as well be an extension of their arms for some of them. Troopers hardly get similar training and most, like Nolan or you, are looking for money or adventures, so they freak out when the tables turn and run. Legionaries? That's far less likely to happen. Wipe them out to a man, and he'll still be fighting."
Max grimaced. "You make it sound like they're worth admiring."
"Caesar is good at turning his soldiers into cold killing machines for sure," Emma continued. "If you want to fight an enemy, you gotta know their strong points and their weak points. Legion's full of shit and I'd be glad to put a hole right between a centurion's eyes… But they do produce competent soldiers. Don't listen to what you heard the movies say now, huh? It's not just football pads and machetes. And if you want to be safe from these machetes, you'll need to be good at hand to hand. So c'mon, practice your evasion."
"I don't see the point though, why'd I punch back? I may as well just establish distance again and shoot him, right?" Emma smiled almost proudly at that. It was brief, but it made Max's cheeks briefly go pink, glad to have made a point.
"Atta girl. But you'll see why. Don't get punched, don't get grabbed, don't get kicked, alright? Ready when you are."
Max smiled and imitated her friend's pose, all too confident in her ability to impress her. "Heh, I'll do it in a pinch!"
…
Max gasped in shock as she was once again thrown to the floor with a heavy thud. Luckily, the floor was mostly (yellow) grass with nothing too dangerous laying about. Less luckily, she still hit the ground at full force, kicking up dust all around her as the impact send vibrations across her entire body, preventing her from immediately getting up. Instead, she instinctively crossed her arms to hold them, as if the impact would somehow screw them loose. A poor choice on her behalf: Emma leaped to her fallen enemy and "stabbed" at her stomach with an invisible sword.
"Bam! You're dead." Emma got up and looked down at Max, who was still recovering from her fall. The dark-haired woman showed no signs of worry about her friend, but she nonetheless backed off a little to provide her with the time she needed to recover. The younger woman appreciated the attention, even if she was too busy trying to keep her body from exploding to thank her yet. After half a minute, the young woman relaxed and finally uncrossed her arms to spread them on the ground. This prompted Emma to advance at her and hold her hand down for Max to grab, which the younger woman eventually did.
"You… bah. I think that you're going to give me some amnesia at this point." She complained, dusting off her own shirt. Because the Mojave just couldn't be nice enough to be cold even at night, and also because she knew she was off to do some exercise, she had wrapped her upper uniform around her waist. It did make her feel lighter, somehow, but that was some layer of protection gone.
"My pa said that pain is weakness leaving the body." Once Max was well on her feet, Emma took a few steps back and smirked slightly when her adversary shot her an annoyed glare. "Hey, you're stronger now than you were the day before, right? Anyhow." She launched forward with a forward punch as simple as it was strong, aiming to strike Max in the middle of the nose. Her younger foe immediately dove beneath the punch before punching at her stomach, only to be intercepted by Emma's other arm, which she used to parry the blow. Reacting quickly to this, Max threw herself backward to avoid a grab attempt from Emma, rolling unto her back once and immediately standing on her own two feet again once she was finished, at the ready for more attacks.
Her enemy came in swinging once again with a series of quick punches from both arms. The strikes were strong, fast but also prudent: The soldier would always keep at least an arm back to defend herself if she needed to, preventing Max from immediately retaliating. On the other hand, none of her strikes managed to hit Emma, who darted around each of them to the best of her ability. Sometimes, her enemy would attack twice with the same arm in quick succession instead of using the other one immediately, or even throw change the trajectory of the punch, but Max nonetheless reacted to each attack in time.
But while she could dodge, she couldn't quite establish distance. Emma was keeping up with her, running along to stay close whenever the younger soldier tried to back off. And while she could dodge, Max could slowly feel herself grow more and more tired with each dodge. Punches that missed her by a mile were now missing her by narrower margins with each second, sometimes even grazing her cheeks. One way or the other, she had to end it. But how? Then she suddenly got distracted when something swept her legs aside, toppling her over to the floor right on her stomach. Too confused to even try escaping, Max did nothing as Emma lightly tapped her back with her index, deciding to instead give her a confused look.
"... And the Legionary drive his machete into your spin. If you're lucky," Emma offered her hand and for the ninth time in the last ten minutes, Max took her up. "If not, he knocks you out, and…"
Max grimaced. "Geez, don't get too caught up in it, alright?" The young woman bent down to tap the side of her left leg and looked up at her instructor/tormentor. "What was that? I'm not that heavy but you just swept me aside like I was made out of feathers or something! You have bricks beneath those pants or something?" Emma smirked cockily at the accusation and lifted a leg.
"It's just training, Maxxie! You probably could get that strong if you train up as I have." She lowered her limb. "… Anyway. You could've reacted to this if you had paid attention, ya know? Your dodging's very good considering your experience. But you can't win a fight by just dodging, ya know? I decided to cut it short, but if we had kept going, you would've slowed down enough for me to hit you."
"You simply didn't give me an opening." Contested Max, with an accusatory finger. "I was looking for them."
"Look harder. I want you to get better, but I can't just let myself wide open, ya know? But the lesson here is to remember that legs are weapons too." Emma patted her own legs. "If you're fighting Legionaries it's especially relevant because a lot of them don't protect them as hard as they could. And the weight of their armor becomes an issue because they fall over hard and need to waste time getting up. They can try to grab at you, but you shouldn't be close enough for them to do that." Emma raised a finger. "Legionaries don't protect their throats as hard as they should either. Strike there if you're given an opportunity. It'll stun them real good."
"W-well, I can't exactly train on that with you right?"
"Yep. But you need to take that into account. Those guys you'll fight will be bigger and stronger. But, see, they get overconfident." Emma placed herself on the tips of her toes, put her right hand over her chest, and looked at the incoming dawn with severity. After hours and hours of darkness, seeing the sun rays slowly coming through over the mountains was… a bit beautiful. Emma's chatter became a bit of background noise in fact since Emma found herself engrossed with the incoming sun.
"… Here I stand. Me, Anus Wickus! I fight for the Legion and Caesar, and I have broken dozen of NCR profligates. Countless of my enemies have wet themselves in the face of my power or decided to fall to their bullets instead of my blades!" Emma briefly broke character to chuckle, but then hurled an invisible spear. "Io and behold! A female profligate! Confident in my victory, I approach her. Surely, her female stature and mind will make it an easy fight! But then… ah, in my overconfidence, I am struck blind! My eyes bleed, as she pulls her fingers out of my ruined orbits! The air dies in my lungs, as a terrible blow is done to my throat by her hand! Badly weakened and already out of breath, I stumble backward as I attempt to fend her off with wild slashes of my machete… but it is too late! Her bullets tear through my armor, and I die in agony, bested by a woman. Ave." Emma bowed as if she had played to an audience, but was greeted by a vaguely uncomfortable Max, who looked elsewhere to see if there were other spectators in the area. The younger woman pushed an unnerved chuckle.
"You… you're really descriptive about the parts where he dies because of all those… thingies that he gets."
"Sure, coz that's what you need to aim for. If the guy has nothing to cover his eyes, always go for them. Punch his throat. Break his knees or elbows," She did a motion with each word, to make her point. "These guys believe that women are weak and that they've won the fight when they're in range. They'll be careless if they get nearby, and that's when you strike before they can fight back. Always go for the eyes if you can. If not, the throat. If not, the legs. If not… Well, run better."
"Sure, but… It's hard to get into this mindset of doing crippling damage," Max raised two of her fingers in a V and stabbed at the air. "Gouging out eyes and wrecking throats is-"
"Necessary." Interrupted Emma. Her tone had switched back to the one she'd use "on the job", which wasn't the best thing for Max to hear.
"S-sure, but I'm just a city gal, right? You're asking me to mutilate another human being without remorse. I've never done violence in my life before so it's hard to do the switch if you get me."
"I don't get you. Because being violent is a part of the job, Max. When you enlist in the goddamn military." There was a tinge of annoyance in Emma's words that was only becoming more and more apparent with each sentence. "You accept that you need to sometimes shoot people. You also accept that you'll be shot back at. You dig? I'd get it if you were forced to the fight or something. But you knew what you were getting into! You had no one just flat-out telling you to go there and enlist, right? You could've picked any other job. Maybe… joined Crimson Caravan or Happy Trails if you wanted to just see more of the world, goddamn diseased as it is!" She threw her arms high into the air. "Why did you chose to be a soldier if you think that violence is so bad?!"
"I wanted to help people." Replied Max, feeling less and less comfortable with the way the discussion was heading.
"Well, you picked a job where you'll also need to kill them! And they'll kill back if you're too careless! You dig? Listen, you've been told of how hellish it is out there a lot, and I'm sure you think that we're exaggerating, but it's not! And I don't want you to freeze in shock when you get into a fight with some maniac and he tries to kill you! You're trying to play a game where you won't even abide by the rules! We're not going to just be fighting ants! We won't even get to pick some of the fights!"
"So… so what? I just become a thug? I kill, cripple, and steal just to survive? I-is that what NCR soldiers do?! Because I haven't signed up to… to be a criminal!" Emma sighed and turned around, impatiently tapping the ground with her feet. "Don't you just turn around on me! Maybe it's naïve of me, but I just can't become adept with violence like that! Or else what am I, but a raider with a uniform and permission to k-" Emma briefly became a blur, and Max felt something heavy smack her right in the left cheek, with such force that she had to take several steps backward so as not to fall. Caught by surprise, the youth froze in shock.
Then, when a sharp pain snapped her out of it, she fumbled to check her mouth with her left hand while attempting to dismiss the feel of a warm liquid seeping out of her mouth and lip as a mere trick of the mind… Only for the red smear on the palm of her hand to confirm that it wasn't mere fantasy. To see the blood, her blood, woke up Max. With a betrayed expression, she stared at Emma. "You… you punched me!"
"That I did. And with no hesitation," Emma raised her guilty fist, and Max took two steps back instinctively, even when her aggressor remained still. "… But that punch? That could've been a machete to the guts. Or a plasma shot to the head. Or an iron tire to the knee. But still, is that painful?"
Max hesitated slightly before her jaw decided to answer the question with a sudden spike in pain. "The wince tells it all. Max, wake up! You're a soldier! You signed up for this!" Emma quickly crossed the distance separating her from Max and seized the younger woman by the shoulder. "You should've put aside these feelings back in California, for fuck's sake! Out here, in the Mojave, you'll encounter people who grew up here! They lived to be older than you in places far more chaotic than Shady Sands! They had to fight to survive at an age where you were still struggling with the alphabet, see?! They won't hold back on you or spare you because you were nice to them! They'll kill you! They'll even have fun doing it! And you'd hold back?! You'd think that just defending yourself will somehow make you as bad as them?!" Emma began to shake Max at a rather disorienting speed, to the point that the latter would surely puke if she wasn't so scared out of her mind.
Emma had a weird look to her: Her pupils were tiny, black dots on a white background, and it felt like they weren't even staring at her even when they were set right on her like they were glancing past her. It was almost terrifying to see such a composed person lose it like that in front of her, and those hands were far too close to her neck for her comfort. "You walk away from the main group constantly, you go out of your way to help assholes who can't and wouldn't even bother to give you anything back, you act like being a soldier means patrolling the Mojave and handing out food to beggars! You're begging to get killed or worse!" As she was beginning to tire, Emma let go, leaving some purple marks on Max's shoulders. "And I don't want you to die, damn it all! I'm not trying to… remove your empathy or whatever, but you need to get tougher. It's you or them. Pick you, alright? Maybe you'll live to regret it. Maybe you'll find it horrifying in hindsight, but the important part is that you'll live to have guilt!"
Max stared haplessly. A string of words came to mind, but she couldn't even begin to put them together to form a sentence. "I can only protect you for so long. Maybe we'll be sent to different places. Maybe I'll die. Either way, I don't want to learn that you died because you prioritized the Fiend's well-being over yours in an attack, alright? At least when we catch up in the afterlife, heh!"
"… Why? Why'd you try so hard to teach me that?" Max finally spoke, holding onto her swelling cheek, making it a struggle to both think up and actually say the sentence. "Why me? Why not Nolan or the others?"
Emma stood still as if gathering herself. She then gathered together a little more poise, even if her voice was still on edge. "Well… the coach fetched me to teach you, didn't he? That, or maybe I want to save at least one of these assholes. Or maybe I think that you could be an NCR heroine later. Who knows? Maybe I'm just not applying my own code of conduct as thoroughly as I can… But either way, promise me to take what I said into account. Become stronger, and leave some of that empathy back in California. You'll pick it up on the way home." Max hesitated for a little moment before simply walking up to her friend.
Emma blinked once, then twice, and at the third blink, Max immediately smacked her in the face with a punch. It was the finest hit that she would ever deliver: All her pent-up aggression fueled the strength in her weak muscles, bestowing them with power beyond their usual limits to deliver a punch that felt like it could knock the wind out of a Super Mutant. Even her upper body had been launched forward like she wanted to break her spine, all to accompany the strength of her attack. All that, just to get Emma to take a step backward.
Instead of retaliating, Emma simply blinked. Then, she threw her head back and spat some blood-saliva mixture into the ground, smirking in amusement. "… Ya know, I was actually planning to block the punch." She rubbed her chin a little before lowering her arm. "I take it that's a yes?"
"How it's said in the Wastes, yeah," Max replied, rubbing the knuckles of her punching hand. It definitely kinda hurt, but that was a good way to make a point. "… Well, I guess that I'll try to follow what you say about not holding back on my enemies, but I… I don't think I'm just going to be able to ignore those who need me. I'll shoot that Fiend coming at me with a knife and I'll help that vagrant who just needs a bit of food, you know? And, huh, make sure the latter won't try to stab me."
Emma sighed. "That's… well, a middle-ground. Be careful. Don't just drop your guard and, also, make sure to shoot if you have an enemy in your sight, alright? Promise that you won't freeze. Promise that you won't care about the guy's family or friends, but about the threat that he is to you. Or, well, you, Nolan, me…"
"Yeah, got it," Max said.
"It can be troublesome to end another life but… well you get used to it. The trick is not to get too… too used to it, you don't want to become a loony. I knew a guy-" Emma suddenly turned to the side and pulled a handgun out of her belt, pointing it in the direction of the dinosaur. Frightened by the sudden interruption, and puzzled at her friend's wrath towards an innocent statue, Max wheeled around towards it, curious as to what would cause such a shift in behavior. She reached for her own weapon, only to remember that her gun and rifles were elsewhere at the moment. So instead, she bent over, picked up a large rock, and held it over her head with a fierce expression on her face.
A door closed, somewhere, and a masculine figure walked out of the darkness to meet up with the two women. He was tall and well built, outstripping Max in size by about two heads and a half, with broad shoulders and two thick arms made to wield some of the heaviest guns to be found in the Wastes. She couldn't tell much about his looks, since it was still a bit dark even with the incoming sun, but he was bald or concealing his hair beneath that red beret of his. The sight of which prompted Emma to immediately lower her gun. Max was a bit slower on the uptake, first checking to see Emma's reaction before tossing aside the rock. It wouldn't have been really useful against a man toting a sniper rifle, even if he had it strapped on his back.
Now why he'd use a sniper rifle with sunglasses at night, she had no idea.
"First Recon, huh? I guess you're the reason why the Legion's still twiddling their thumbs back in Nelson." Greeted Emma. In answer, the bald man said nothing and kept his eyes on the motel, walking past the two ladies without the slightest grunt of acknowledgment. Had Max stood in his way, he would've very certainly walked over her! Even Emma frowned, watching him walk through the court and towards what seemed to be his motel room, which he entered quickly before closing the door.
"… Asshole." Muttered Max. Emma hissed in answer and grabbed her arm, before immediately walking out of the court with her in tow.
"That "asshole" is probably the only real obstacle to the Legion in this town. Though I guess that the other guy isn't too bad if they're doing day shifts," She paused briefly to witness another figure cross the court and head towards the dinosaur. Then, to Max's surprise, Emma saluted. The other Sniper saluted back but kept walking. "First Recon's a bunch of real pros. They're worth… what, a thousand of you and me."
"You're pretty good." Mumbled Max back. Did that guy hear that? Was she going to end up shot in the head in the next second? She wasn't too interested in being anywhere near his line of sight at least.
"Heh. Compared to those guys, I'm average… But not for long," She looked down at Max. "We'll surpass them both, ya hear me? We'll become decorated Rangers, and that bald guy, no matter how good he is, will salute us the next time we meet!" Emma snorted, probably playing the scenario in her head over ad over.
"That is a pretty sweet idea… But so huh… The others are still asleep, right? What are we gonna do?"
"We're probably going to stay put for roll-call. McCarran is still a long way so we'll have to head out soon if we want to reach it," They both stepped closer to their huddled comrades, and settled down on the dirt. "… Huh, you've got anything we could use to pass the time?"
"Well, maybe we could play Caravan?"
"Psh, this game? I never figured out how its rules work."
Max took a moment of pause and sighed. "Yeah, me neither".
…
The New California Republic Correctional Facility has fallen back under the control of the NCR following a successful attack on the prison-turned-fortress. Lieutenant Hayes, the mastermind behind the attack, has agreed to give us some finer details, though he has indicated that he will need to omit some of them.
"The Powder Gangers were quick to secede from one another and form factions after factions following the breakout. It was easy to mop up the weaker groups and move on to the facility itself. I can confidently say that the reign of terror of these convicts over this section of the Mojave has come to an end. A fair warning to the other enemies of the NCR: We will crush you, as we have crushed the Powder Gangers. Beware."
Reports also indicate that a mysterious third party helped the NCR in fending off the Powder Gangers, tearing apart the escaped convicts with extreme prejudice according to some bemused soldiers. Lieutenant Hayes has refused to comment on these matters but has clarified that the NCR will fight its own battles, without the need of mercenaries.
On other news…
Merchants are saying there's been little contact with traders from Nipton in recent days, causing concerns that the isolated town may be in trouble.
…..
You know, I always end up imagining longer chapters in my head! We were supposed to have a conversation with a certain companion occur in this one, for instance! But at least, this helps in not making needlessly long chapters.
Oh also, I loved "Way back home" while playing Fallout 3, so that's why it's here! I hope you'll forgive its inclusion!
What did you think of this chapter? Did you like it? Don't hesitate to review, I love getting those! It helps me to see what I'm doing right or wrong!
But anyhow, see you next week! See ya later, alligator!