"And that's a third X! Should've been more careful, Emma!" Max spoke with triumph, carving the final symbol into the sand. The presence of many sleepy soldiers just nearby prevented her from fully expressing the joy of triumph, but the victor of the little bout silently threw her arms up in the air and clapped quietly a few times. "That's 2 points in advance for me. Care to try your luck a third time?" She teased, smirking coyly at her adversary.

In answer, Emma grimaced and wiped the sand away with her hand, not stopping until it was fully wiped off the map. "Yeah well, I hope you have your expectations in check because this woman is going to make a dramatic comeback!" The soldier jammed her thumb at her chest before setting out to draw more lines in the sand, preparing the next round. Basking in her brief superiority, Max continued to smugly smile at her, quietly reminding her of what was at stake. Eventually, the dark-haired woman groaned and looked up at her. "What are you so proud of? I didn't know you were such a sore winner, Maxxie."

"I mean… You did toss me around for a while," Max answered, with an apologetic smile. "You're gonna walk away from this game with a bruised ego at best, see? I'm gonna walk away from our session with… well, actual bruises." She reflexively stroked her cheek, where Emma had decided to hit her. It hadn't swollen in yet, so either she was tougher than she thought she was or Emma was weaker than she looked. Either way, she was glad. After all, other troopers or superiors may have gotten curious, and that could've caused her friend trouble. That, and Max had some vanity of her own, and a swollen cheek would definitely not be advantageous for her to have.

"I told ya, pain is just weakness leaving the body," Retorted Emma. "You could always train up later and kick my ass later on."

"Why would I? We're buds," Max stuck her tongue out and observed the grid structure below, with an uncertain look to her, and not because of the game. "… We are, right?"

"If we weren't, I wouldn't be trying to save your naïve ass from the desert." Retorted Emma, narrowly missing the sweet smile on her friend's face. After all, she was too busy patting her pockets around to try to find something on her. Max looked on, curious, before seeing the trooper pull a pack of "Big Boss" cigarettes out in the open. Tobacco was, very much like alcohol, a quiet killer. In fact, it came off as surprising to her that Emma would both drink and smoke, considering how harmful it could be to her body and general attention span. In fact, when offered one, Max put up the firmest face she could muster and gave a dismissive hand wave.

"No, sorry. I don't smoke." She said, sounding decisive. Emma shrugged and dug into the pack to extract one stick out of it.

"You'll really have to tell me more about what kind of fucked up substance abuse your relatives got up to."

Max bit her lip and shifted her posture a little, uncomfortable with the way the discussion was headed. "Well… Maybe there's a bit of that. Maybe there's a bit of my brother being a doctor and seeing what that stuff does to you. You know, in the old world, they had to put disclaimers that "smoking kills", right?" Emma listened on, pulling a lighter out and shaking it repeatedly. "… So I guess it's pretty bad to smoke."

Emma gave her a dubious look. "Girl, if what finally signs my death warrant is tobacco, then I'll have led a very successful life," She tapped the lighter away, groaning when it failed to provide her with any light. The young woman instead threw it over her shoulder. "You got a lighter?" Max shook her head horizontally and Emma grimaced. "Wish we got to kill some Powder Gangers, these guys got lighters by the dozen."

"Oh, those? Yeah, why weren't we sent to deal with them?" Asked Max, though she was secretly glad that they didn't move against them yet. She'd rather not get dynamite thrown her way! "They had a base right?"

"They did, but they split apart and got themselves slaughtered. We're probably going to be able to start repairing the L-15. And that means an easier road to the Mojave. We just need to kill these Deathclaws up in Quarry Junction." Max grew paler at the mention of the beasts.

"D-deathclaws here?" Emma snorted in amusement at that.

"Yeah, it's a shithole, I told you so. You got Cazadores, you got Deathclaws, you got armed lunatics by the dozen… But it's fine. Deathclaws are territorial but that means that they stick to their own corner and rarely tend to leave. See, unlike us humans, they're fine having something of their own and don't try to conquer everything in sight," Emma paused slightly to look at the sleeping soldiers, and glanced at Max. "You think they have lighters of their own? The soldiers, I mean."

"Maybe you could ask Nolan? He seems like a nice guy," Proposed Max. "… Huh, speaking of that, where did you put him at?"

"In the tent. I've also kept your caps because some homeless guy was going around looking at them saying that they were all tiny mind-control devices or something," She sighed. "Be careful with putting down that much cap in one go, girl. There will always be a guy to try something stupid, especially when most of the troopers were too sluggish to even think about grabbing their guns."

"Y-yeah, that was a bit dumb, but I'm better now. Besides, ain't it neat that I sold this gun for that many caps? I bet I could buy some ammo for my rifle now!"

"It was smart, yeah. I'm glad you took up that rule so quickly," Emma sighed. "… So you're sure you've got no lighter?" The sounds of footsteps on the sand broke the silence, and Max froze, while Emma stood still, casually turning her head to the left. This allowed their guest, a man in a white checkered suit, to come closer and use his lighter to lit up her cigarette. Once done, the man stood up and put the lighter away in a pocket, revealing that he was smoking something of his own.

"Baby, situations like these are why I'm glad I keep a spare lighter around," Max observed the man a bit closer, confused by his appearance. By all means, he looked like he didn't belong here in Novac, or anywhere else in the Mojave. He was clean, tall, wore a fine suit (of questionable taste, but the fabric was nonetheless very nice), and could afford to take care of his hair, even if was slightly disheveled in places. She guessed that he had been away from "home" for a long time, and lacked the supplies to properly take care of it, but it was still way better than the common Wastelander. Or even her, she thought bitterly, not really having the time to get all that picky about it.

He was a confident man, to carry around that wealth around him in the desert, where even she knew that plenty of desperate people would be ready to steal his belongings to sell them to a merchant. She'd find that courageous if he didn't give her off such an off-feeling. She didn't truly know him, so she wasn't going to outright call him a murderer at a first glance, but something about him made her a bit nervous, and it wasn't that incredibly ugly suit he wore.

Of course, maybe he was a good guy. Maybe he's out there in the Wastes to save the common folk and defeat evil. Maybe he gives back the caps bestowed upon him by gracious strangers to orphanages or the local group of Followers of the Apocalypse. Sure, that was likely. But she also happened to feel like he'd much rather steal from local orphanages and Followers. Maybe she was integrating Emma's lessons well (too well) though. Besides, if he happened to be evil, they'd stop him, as they will stop the various ne'er-do-well of the desert. So, instead of pointing a finger at him to accuse, Max opted to simply give him a kind smile when he turned to look at her, hoping that he wouldn't notice her current doubts.

"Nice smile, baby. Not one that you usually see around here too. The boys back in California are sending fresh meat again, huh?"

"Yeah! We're here to go help out" Max immediately slammed her hand unto her mouth, which was perhaps not the wisest of decisions considering the punch that was inflicted on it earlier. She kept herself from falling over at the very least, and the sudden sharp pain in her mouth reminded her of those propaganda posters that were plastered over Bootcamp."What I know, I keep to myself! Careless talk cost lives!"

The man laughed, not unkindly, at the demonstration and shook his head. "Sugar Plum," Max felt charmed, but also a bit grossed out at being called that. "Don't you worry your pretty head over that slogan! New Vegas's a friend to the NCR, you dig? I've talked to a lot of fantastic soldier boys and girls like you, but never to those Legion finks, so don't you worry about communicating anything too precious. I can keep my mouth shut." He lit up a cigarette of his own. Very much like the suit, they looked to be of a fancier brand than "Big Boss". He then exhaled some smoke, and looked down on her, rolling the lit cig between his fingers. "Else I'd be crappy at my job, wouldn't ya agree baby?"

"O-oh, you work at a casino? W-well obviously, sorry for the dumb question!" She glanced at Max, who was very quietly smoking on her own, apparently unfazed by the man.

"The best casino," He replied, with a smarmy tone. "Ever heard of the Tops? Best place to be in the Strip. My boys and I will treat you like royals, and you won't have to worry about some fink putting jet in your drink like at the Gomorrah. 'Course baby, you can party at the Ultra-Luxe… But between you and I, it's not a place you can get far in with a soldier's salary. With all due respect to your sacrifices, of course, but that's why we have the best prices in the Strip."

Max laughed nervously, not finding herself at ease with the situation. "I'm… not too much into drinking or gambling. So I wasn't planning on going there. Besides, yeah, Gomorrah seems very… New Reno-ish?" The man immediately put up his best-horrified face, as if Max had declared herself an agent of Caesar.

"Ah dolly, you're gonna miss out then! There ain't much to do for a trooper outside of the Strip!" He took another smoke. "You could go to Freeside, but that slum's crawling with all kind of finks achin' for a breakin'. Atomic Wrangler's a bogus casino and the Kings don't take too kindly to you folks bringing in some civilization. In the Tops, we've got all kinds of the good aqua pura stuff and ya can cast an eyeball at our shows, featuring the up-and-coming artists all around the Mojave. Ya like the Rat Pack? We've got them. You like comedians? Yep, got two of 'em ready to make you roar with laughter. You prefer taking it slow? We've got crooners to sing ya a spell. All of these boys will make you forget those skirt-wearing dreamboats on the eastern side of the Colorado." He jammed his thumb in the direction of Nelson.

The young trooper listened on, not daring to intervene. It did sounds… really nice, Maybe she had been wrong? He spoke kinda funny, but he didn't seem to be a bad guy. Perhaps he was a bit tired after coming back from something exhausting down the desert. And of course, that tiny voice once again reminded her that "maybe it wasn't anything really legal, Max", but maybe he was… paying a visit to his sickly mother here in Novac? Was there a town further south? She had troubles imagining a gentleman like him dwelling amongst the low lives or unfortunate souls of Nipton.

So instead, she giggled at the last part of his phrase. "Y-yeah. It sounds nice. I'll go there!"

"Fabulous, baby. You're pretty smart picking our place, ya know? Plenty of troopers make the wrong choice with their pick, but ya guessed exactly where to go to!"

"W-well, you do a great job at hyping it up." She replied, blushing from the praise. "I'll put out the words on where to go too!"

"Fantastic, kitten! And don't get demoralized if a pack of goofs doesn't listen to ya. Can't call them all, right?"

"If the Tops is such a great place." Interrupted Max, after exhaling enough smoke to outright kill a lesser woman. "… Why are ya so far away from it, pretty boy?" The man's gaze turned away from Max to Emma, but he didn't look too affected.

"Well, baby. I can tell I'm not out explorin' for kicks. Had some urgency to deal with. Could've let some goons handle this, but I'm a man of principle and I trust my good pals to run the place. So I left and gave the fink a piece of my mind. Because a good leader just gotta deal with the bad stuff himself, and I ain't going to let raiders or monsters scare me away from dishing out some casino justice. That's how Benny roll, dig? The Omertas will send their faceless thugs after you, but I ain't a fink."

"What's the point of being a leader if you go ahead and take care of things yourselves?" Asked Emma. "You've got goons for a reason, right?"

"Oh, with that kind of talk, doll, you'll go far in the military! But no. I trust my buddy Swank to run things smoothly. And besides, you'll get slow if you let other folks deal with things in the Wasteland. If I stay in my casino like a fat cat, then I'm not going to look too good, wouldn't I?" He gave Max a wink, and she heartily agreed. "I gotta put in as much work as you troopers, dig? It's only fair with all the bullets you're taking for us."

"So where did you go then? Out of Vegas, there be raiders, Fiends… What could get ya to leave your place to go meddle with the rest of us mortals?" Benny shook his head and waged his finger at her.

"Can't say, baby. It's nothing that you ladies should concern yourselves with anyway." He took another smoke. "Out there, it's anarchy. It's escaped convicts waging dynamite sticks like spazzes and mutated animals looking to make a snack out of ya. Why don't we talk about Vegas? Where there's lights, and drinks, and entertainment to be found?"

"R-right. I've had to kill huge mutated ants. Huh, I mean we had to." Max pointed a shaky finger at her friend. "And she did an awesome job with it too. But… What I mean is that, huh, I could sure use some talk about a place where there's no Legion or other enemies." Emma raised an eyebrow at that, smiled slightly too, but ultimately resumed her distinctly neutral face.

"… Well, you went on the radio lastly? Weird things have been going on North."

"Nah. Place took us… south, yeah. And there ain't much in the way of town further south. Besides Nipton, but even the Radscorpions avoid that place." Max heartily agreed.

"Huh-huh. Well, the radio's been talking about a Courier apparently recovering from a bullet to the head in Goodsprings. About a week ago, since I guess that he had to recover some more. Heard of that?" Benny stood there blankly, letting his cigarette burn itself out before he finally managed to compose himself into a smile.

"Oh pussycat, you saying I'm a murderer? I get my countless love letters thanks to the work of those brave Couriers. Why'd I shoot one?" Benny proceeded to let his cigarette fall down on the sand below, and stomped on the ashes. "Wasteland's a brutal place too. You got killers and shady stuff up the wazoo, baby. Some fink… I don't know, was sent some hate mail through a Courier, got all angry over that, and decided to shoot the messenger. Tragic, but it ain't me. I went south, last time I checked, that's not where North is. Besides, Goodsprings's a nice place, ain't it?

"Huh-huh. More like was. It got wiped out the map. Powder Gangers and the inhabitants disagreed on who should own the place. Somehow wiped each other." She spoke, casually pressing the burning tip of her cigarette into the sand as well. Max looked down, aghast.

"Aww, those poor folks! Where were we to protect them?" Emma shrugged, while Benny looked to be definitely put off by what had been said.

"People die, Max. A lot of folks you don't know about are getting shanked, shot, or poisoned as we speak. Don't try to care about 'em and ensure that similar things won't happen to the ones you love."

"Good advice, baby." Advised Benny, trying –and failing- to keep his suave tone. "Well then. Was good talking with some ladies after those days out in the desert, but I do kinda miss the Tops! So I'll bid you adieu." He dug into his suit and pulled out two little white cards, which he handed over. On the front of the card was an eager "YOU HAVE BEEN INVITED TO… THE TOPS CASINO!", with what she assumed was the logo of the place upfront. Four photos stood out below the logo, each depicting someplace to visit in the casino. From the Aces Theater to a luxurious courtyard, with the two others instead depicting people playing or sitting at a table.

The back of the card was similarly fancy. "BOYS, THIS CARD BELONGS T P! ENJOY THE TOPS FOR FREE BABY!"

"Those are VIP cards! You could sell them for a few caps but would you want to break poor Benny's heart?" He tapped on his chest as he said so. "I want to see both of you at the Casino. We'll trade stories over a drink of… water, yeah. So make sure to put a few caps in some legion oddball, dig? You show them to my buddy Swank and he'll treat you like the queens you are."

"I'll make sure to pass by if I get to Vegas!" Benny shook his head at that.

"When ya get to Vegas, baby! Have some confidence! Anyhow, speaking of that, I'll head out! Make sure not to die, hm?" He turned around, and off he went.

"W-wait!" Called out Max, causing Emma to sigh in annoyance. "You're going to head out like that? It's dangerous out here!"

"Hah, baby. I can't kill a whole town." He winked to the older woman, prompting her to roll her eyes. "… But I can handle finks. And my bodyguards are waiting for me ahead too! So, don't ya worry! I'll make it to the Tops, make sure you do the same!" He did a smooth turn around and immediately bolted off this time, soon vanishing behind the motel. Max scratched the top of her head with such urgency. Maybe he had people he missed back in Vegas?

"… Man, that was some slimy shit." Emma got up and dusted herself off. "You really fell for that? The old-world mannerisms, the quick winks, and the advertisement?"

"W-well. He was nice to us. Much more than that beret-wearing asshole," She gave a quick glance to the motel, almost expecting said asshole to shoot at her. "… I mean, he does give an off vibe, but maybe it's because I'm getting paranoid?"

"You're the opposite of paranoid," The dark-haired woman pinched her nose in annoyance. "He's one of those dime-a-dozen scam artists who run around the Strip seducing younger girls like you for fun. He's not nice to you because it's how he is, he's just trying to see if he's still got it after doing… whatever the fuck he was doing in the desert. He called you a kitten, right?"

"… What's a Kitten?" Asked Max in return, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion.

"It's like a juvenile version of an extinct animal. It's cute but clumsy. He's called you that because from his point of view, you're cute and naïve enough to believe everything he says," Noted the more weathered soldier. The younger private wondered how her friend knew that, but dismissed it as some Wastelander knowledge that wasn't important enough to be taught back in Shady Sands. "These guys, they'll wrap folks like you around their pinkie to stroke their ego. Benny boy here probably wouldn't have given someone like Nolan the time of the day, if you get me… Huh, speaking of him. You ought to give him my VIP card or whatever. I'm not planning on going there."

"W-well call me an easy girl will you?!" Max swept the ticket out of her friend's hand and ranged both in one of the numerous pouches in her uniform. "Besides, why'd I go with Nolan? He's nice, for sure, but c'mon! There's going to be… the Rat Pack!" Emma raised a single eyebrow in answer. "… I think that you could really afford to relax, you know? You're always going on about the wasteland this, wasteland that, how about you see Vegas?"

"Naw. I'll "relax" when I'll be high-graded and able to give orders from my cushy office. I'd rather not lose my edge in those casinos," Grumbled Emma. "If you ask me, casinos are a bridge between the Old World and ours. There's the manipulation and addiction of the old days, coupled with our own brand of brutality. Why should we ape the buildings and game of that period, anyhow? We need a culture of our own! Something from the future, not the past that blasted the planet into the Stone Age!" She huffed slightly. "… Also I don't want to lose my caps." She concluded as if trying to hide her outburst from earlier.

"… Ooooookkay. Huh, but what about Nolan then?" Asked Max, feeling curious.

"Well, Tops sounds like a boys' club anyhow. You could enter it as a lone woman, but prepare to have lonely jerks swarm over you. But they'll probably back off if they see a big dude with you. Not out of respect, but because they're too craven to "challenge" another man. At least, it's how it went in New Reno. I can't imagine Vegas being any different," Emma smiled coyly and lowered her head. "Besides. You seem to appreciate him. Else you wouldn't be sharing the spoils of your finding with him, right?"

"Well, it felt right! He found it! Besides, I like being nice." Max got up. "If he's not busy or something, I'll give it to him. But that's because I'd rather share and I know him the most out of the unit thus far."

Emma shrugged and got up as well. "Sure, sure. Love's not the best thing anyway. Too many-"

"Yeah, yeah. Death, sadness, all of that. Geez, I get it now! I'm not new to love, trust me."

"Nah. You'll get it when you'll get older."

"Like you?" Max smiled, attempting to diminish the verbal blow that way. Emma reared her head back in surprise and then laughed.

"You're lucky I'm a nice gal, Max!"

…

"You know, I think we should've stayed behind at Novac," Max watched the town grow smaller and smaller with every step, its inhabitants gathered at the edge to watch the soldiers leave. Or at least she guessed those humanoid blobs in the distance was the inhabitants. "Nelson's right next to their town, right? It could be dangerous for them…" Nolan looked down at her, his expression unreadable through the face wrap that he wore.

Hot like the sun above was trying to batter them with spears made out of light. Max held her rifle with shaky hands, desperately trying to think about something else than the unbearable heat that they were all forced to endure in their own way. Some simply slouched, having grimly accepted that they'd need to tolerate the heat for hours. Others stood tall, sweating bullets but refusing to let that bother them. The rest, like Nolan, had decided to gear up and wear their helmet, face wraps, and goggles to soak up the sweat and shield their face from the sun. Max had chosen to imitate the latter, pulling up some fabric around her lower face and using her helmet to shield the rest of it, but it didn't prevent the heat from being rather overwhelming.

So instead, she tried to keep her mind off it by thinking about things that confused her, which were aplenty in this desert.

"… Like, shouldn't we head east to lead an assault on the place?" She concluded, regretfully since talking helped her focus on her thoughts. "We go in and we-" She held out her rifle and sprayed invisible bullets left to right, being careful to keep her finger as far away from the trigger as possible while doing so. Shooting her own allies by accident would make for a wild story to tell three decades later, but it wouldn't be worth the court-martial. "Blast away?"

"Well apparently, orders are to go to McCarran. Nelson's not in the way of McCarran…" Nolan stammered through his mask, gesturing at the air. "... Because Nelson is… east, right? And we're… not east because the east is not where the west is and the west is where we are and so that's not east." Having mumbled his way through, he glanced at Max. "… So we can't."

She somewhat regretted the decision, yet was thankful over it. To help out Novac and save Nelson, yes, that was a noble goal. Max pictured herself proudly hoisting up a flag of the NCR with the help of her squadmates, having brought freedom and salvation to the innocents of the area, and punishment to those who stood against such principles. But it was still difficult for her to make that jump. Yes, she had promised Emma, but for some city folk like her, to go from "newbie" to "killer of men" was complicated.

Still, she hoped to do it without losing herself. To kill in defense of others and not because she wanted to or because it was "easy". The wasteland is the wasteland, but she had a civilization to return to, and she just couldn't come home with a totally different set of morals. What Max hoped to do is kill some jerks. Not innocent. Not desperate wastelanders. Not the people she's supposed to save. Only the jerks. And she figured it'd be easy enough to identify the latter.

"… Huh. Yeah. West and East are different."

"Man, I'd actually be willing to invade Nelson all on my own if it meant getting some fucking water!" Butted in a third soldier. "I'm swimming in my sweat in there! Those machetes will slide off me!" Max winced in disgust, while Nolan stayed largely neutral. Conserving water had been a challenge over the last few hours, especially because it was still very early in the trip, and… no, no! She had to think about other things! The sun won't hit her otherwise!

"H-hey, it's HELIOS One." She pointed out, noticing the tower in the distance. "It's… a tower."

"Y-yeah. I heard the NCR fought the Brotherhood for that spot," Nolan said, recovering some of his sanity. "… Man I'm kinda envious. They're away from the frontlines and it's probably easy to find some shadow to hide in from the sun. I… I bet the Brotherhood wanted that shade too. And I can't blame them. Well, I can! They killed a lot of our people! But… I'm joking." He stammered out, the heat seemingly driving him to lunacy. Seeing that he was a bit out of his mind even with all his precautions, Max instead took a look around.

The Mojave wasn't ugly, but that glossy sheen from back at the Outpost was gone. Now, with the heat bearing down on her, she could only see the sand. The kilometers worth of sand, inhabited by nasty critters and bloodthirsty thugs. Would they need to be patrolling it all? To walk there, with "civilization" being either the towers of HELIOS ONE or New Vegas? With an irritated sigh, Max unclipped her water gourd from her belt, lowered her face wrap, and profusely, yet silently, thanked whoever had thought to give them all those gourds before drinking as much water as she could get away with. The trip would be long, after all, and the lack of water available to her would weigh heavily on her mind, bringing her further stress and irritation when the heat had already made her reach her inner boiling point.

To her regret anyway, the water wasn't that refreshing. It hadn't evaporated, thank the heavens, but it was hotter than she was comfortable with, and she ultimately put the gourd aside with a feeling of disappointment in her heart. Which she tried to make up for by thinking about something else. In the corner of her eyes, she saw Nolan imitate her before shaking his head, apparently recovering from his heat-induced bout of dementia.

"… You ever, huh, met a Brotherhood Paladin or something?" She asked.

"No," He answered, concisely. "… And I'm thankful for that. I heard that they just straight-up shoot at caravans that are merely carrying food or water to disrupt the trading routes. Some of my buddies died or barely survived attacks from a Brotherhood patrol."

"Oh, huh… My condolences." She spoke, taking her helmet off and fanning it at her face to provide herself with some air. That third NCR soldier, meanwhile, had been reduced into a heat zombie, sputtering along without adding much to the conversation. After some careful hesitation, Max quickly fanned at his face with her helmet, though by now, it was likely a useless effort.

" It's okay. It was way back," Nolan answered. "When you have friends out there, you know that they could die at any point. It's not the most reassuring thing, but all you can do is trust them to make it."

"Well, most of my friends never left Shady Sands. There's always a job available or they've got rich parents," Max moved to put the helmet back on. "It's how I avoided being drafted, at first. We'd get assigned to some important-sounding desk job," She put emphasis on the last part. "And the army doesn't bother. That's rather cowardly, I know, but… Well, I made up for it, didn't I?"

"If you've got rich friends, then why'd you volunteer for money?" He asked, sounding dubious.

"Dad wouldn't want money like that. He's all about…" Max looked down at the ground and scrounged her eyebrows, as her vocal cords prepared to put forth their best impression of a grumpy old person. "… Daughter!" She spoke, waving her fist at the air. "When I was your age, I had to clean up toilets with a toothbrush the size of your brain! I earned my dollars, damn it all!" Nolan chuckled, and the inactive trooper behind made a noise that vaguely sounded like an amused grunt. Max coughed, the frail voice hell on her throat. "… Well that, and I also don't like being a leech. I kinda want to have my own success, dig? I guess I'm like my old man in that aspect. Most of my friends are still back home though. Can't blame them, really."

"Most." Replied Nolan.

"Oh, yeah. There's Andrew. He left half a year ago to go rob the casinos here or something," She gave a grunt. "He's… the kind of guy who will scam you and several others out of their money before accidentally giving it all away to another scammer. It's not that he's… dumb. But he'll have a part of the plan figured out to the tiniest details and improvise the rest."

"That's not a good thing in a town like Vegas," He said back. "… Not that I'm saying that anything bad happened to him!"

"Who knows? He's good at barely slipping out of danger anyway," Max felt the sun begin to hammer away at her again. "… You huh have friends out in Vegas?"

"I haven't kept in touch. Most would rather avoid it though. There's that sun, the war, the lowlives, the bestiary… I know someone though, Contreras. The last time we spoke, he said he had earned himself a job somewhere in Vegas. But that was a little while ago. Very smart guy… He could've probably pulled some water out of his hat or whatever."

Their walk brought them deeper through the Mojave, the sun above growing more and more vicious with each passing second. Max would sometimes find herself gazing at the plants laid around the desert, wondering how they hadn't turned to ashes with the heat. All those layers of protection on her had only delayed the inevitable, it had seemed. Were she not wearing gloves, the rifle would probably slip right out of her hands. Moreso than the sweat was the mental exhaustion, though. The soldiers were growing louder and louder, clearly bothered with the unsolvable problem at hand.

"… I'm surprised no one shot at the sun already." Quipped Nolan. Immediately following his statement, the sound of gunshots broke through the silence. A few of the troopers immediately raised their own guns, preparing to defend themselves against the obvious Raiders coming their way, but most, Max included, stood still for several seconds before finally getting into position. One or two even compensated by throwing themselves unto the sand to take a position, though some of them underestimated how far the asphalt stretched.

There was a tense silence again, soon broken by Lt. Deacon's commanding voice. "What the hell was that, soldier?!" He questioned, stepping towards a particularly nervous private near the front of the squad. When she failed to offer an adequate answer, he swore and looked in the direction where she had just shot at, along with the rest of his squad, to find two giant ants fleeing the butchered carcass of a Brahmin, at the edge of what used to be a lake of a sort. Going by the wreck behind the unfortunate beast, some unfortunate merchant had underestimated how ferocious the local wildlife could get.

A grisly sight, certainly, but Deacon only grunted in annoyance. "You're a zealous one, Private! Killing the ants was yesterday's objective! If you think that they could've been a threat to the unit, that's fine, but don't shoot at them when they're distracted and away from our main path. You wasted bullets!" He glanced at the fleeing insects. "… And apparently didn't even hit what you were aiming for."

"Y-yes, sir. My apologies," Answered the private, putting aside their rifle to salute. Rolling his eyes, the Lieutenant turned around and began to walk forth again. By the looks of things, he had more to say, but not even he could weather the heat long enough to say it all. The rest of the soldiers silently agreed, and the trigger-happy private fell back into line. Max ignored the dead Brahmin and studied her environment once more, mentally justifying it to herself as "recon".

"… I'm out of water," Announced Nolan, after nearly half an hour of walking. "Max, could you share?"

"I'd love to but I'm out of water myself," She answered, telling herself that it wasn't that much of a lie. By her estimation, her gourd only barely had enough liquid left in it for one last sip. And since she was its owner, it was the smart thing to keep it for herself, right? By that point, it would be dumb to hand it over when she still wasn't seeing any miraculous oasis or settlement in the distance, right? "… Huh, hold on. I may have some left." Max took her gourd off her belt while ignoring the pragmatic voice in her head, and casually handed it over to Nolan. "Here you go."

"-What if the merchants up ahead only sell dirty water? What if you have a heatstroke? What if some other private see this and discover that you're exceedingly naïve for an NCR trooper? What if he's not out of the water and just looking to leech off you? Hey Max. Hey Max, would he be this kind if you were the one in need of water? Oh, wait. When you will be the one in need of water?-"

"Thanks!" He said, downing the rest of the water immediately, and she smiled softly, the feeling of doing something good outweighing any regret. "I owe you one now."

"Oh, you shouldn't say that! I've got a good memory after all!" He witnessed her tap the top of her helmet and laughed in a strained manner already feeling the heat double down on him. "Man. I didn't know that it'd be an adventure just walking here! It's as they said: Patrolling the Mojave will make you wish for"

"A trading outpost! A trading outpost!" The rest of the squad craned their necks to behold a particularly enthusiastic trooper at the front of the squad, enthusiastically pointing at some cruddy shacks on a hill.

"… N-no. That's not how the saying go-A TRADING OUTPOST!"

…

Trading posts like these were common out in the Wastes: Merchants would settle together in one place to trade goods to passersby and soldiers, and defend themselves from raiders. Of course, they were slightly less common in the fringes of NCR territory, where it was easier for criminals to roam around and attack. In his youth, her dad used to be in one of those. His justification was that Shady Sands was too packed with various merchants already and that those with a foothold generally did their best to kill any fledgling competition early on. But in the wastes, it was much easier to find customers all too eager to give away their caps for food or water after a difficult journey.

But his legs had gotten worse by the time Max was a little girl, and so he couldn't make the trip anymore. It also didn't help that the government completed the construction of various roads and vehicles became more common once again, allowing travelers to reach large settlements more easily. He proposed getting a car of his own to drive there, but both his children had overruled him on grounds that their dad behind a wheel was more dangerous for wastelanders than a pack of hungry Deathclaws.

Seeing the competition, some of the outposts either moved to the side of the roads as "relays" or daringly moved to the Mojave, where they would find plenty of desperate troopers, ambitious gamblers on their way to Vegas or tourists. Needless to say, they were going to make bank today, and they must've known it since they had placed up rows and rows of bottles of purified water on the counter of their shops.

She could what seemed to be the "main" shop, made out of scraps and damaged vehicles part, but the NCR soldiers weres swarming towards the nearest merchants in general. Some merely sat at the picnic tables scattered across the outpost, offering nothing but water bottles and keeping a gun close at hand in case of a thief. Some others had fashioned a crude shack out of debris, like that well-dressed ghoul at the right of the "Slop N Shop".

"Aqua-Pura! Come get your Aqua-Pura! You won't find purer water anywhere else in the Mojave, especially here! Aqua-Pura!" He yelled, holding up a bottle of such "Aqua-Pura."

"Is that ghoul wearing a wig?"

"He could wear lingerie for all I care, I need that Aqua-Pura or whatever!"

"Me too!"

But it would be foolish to think that the other merchants were just going to give it all away without a fight! Whoever would be able to distribute their supply of water to the troopers would go to sleep with a lot of caps at hand, and they all knew this.

"Are you really going to get a ghoul sells you water? It's probably radioactive!" Pointed out one of the shop-less merchants. "I got my water straight out of Lake Mead! It's pure! And it'll be given to you by hands that haven't rotted off yet!"

"These guys will run out of their water very soon," Advertised the male owner of the Slop N' Shop. "Come get some at our store. We've got more than enough water for every last one of you!"

Various troopers moved about, each convinced by the merchants. Max stood back meanwhile, unable to go through the wall of flesh that stood in her way. She was surprised to find herself accompanied by Lt. Deacon, of all people, who could only gesture at his troops. "You imbeciles! Behave like the soldiers you are and stop rushing to things! Are you going to let a little heat bother you that much?!" The soldiers for once mostly ignored his words. After all, most of them were busy trying to barter for lower prices.

"10 caps?! Are you kidding me?!"

"It's a steal! Water should cost 1 cap, top!"

"I've got my own things to pay for, troopers. I can't go much lower than that." Shrugged one merchant.

"Much love for you guys… and gals, but you can't buy supplies and food with gratitude alone!"

"I walked from east to west keeping that water tidy for you folks! It's the price I deserve!" Said each merchant at the same time. Meanwhile, the troopers that had enough caps on them to acquire water were content to walk away and sit down somewhere close to the rest of their unit. Emma was amongst them, quietly sipping away in her little corner of the outpost with some other soldiers.

Max could easily do the same, but it didn't feel right to abandon her fellow troopers like that. There was the pragmatic point of keeping half the unit properly hydrated and healthy, of course, but her main reason was that those men and women didn't deserve to run around the Mojave with nothing to drink. And, as it stood, she could do more than simply sit by, watch and regret: Those caps from the plasma rifle could be put to good use, and allow her to put it all on her tab. Evidently, it wasn't to be taken lightly: Her own money could perhaps buy her better gear and more ammo than what was supplied for her, or even commodities. Should she really pay for a bunch of goons that she may never see again after they reach McCarran? Would they even make a similar move if their positions were reversed?

… Well, with that kind of thinking, no one would really be kind to one another, she thought. Max grabbed a bag full of caps on her and advanced, raising her hand to make herself seen. The crowd turned around, their eyes bloodshot: They weren't that far from tearing her apart to drink her blood. "… I'll put it all on my tab. Everyone who needs some water, step forward!"

…

"Well, now my purse is all lighter!" Max thought, watching her fellow troopers gorge themselves on their bottles of purified water or take tiny sips of it. She was ashamed to say it, but regret was gripping her a little. That money could've gone to the household, asserted a little voice deep in her mind, or could've been used for her sake.

But she put that all aside. Yes, it wasn't very wise of her and yes, Emma would doubtlessly disapprove, but that warm feeling in her chest, that slowly spread up to her cheeks and even brain, made it all worth it. And she knew that this was born of her good deed. The pride in doing something good, even when it costs an earlier reward, simply for its sake. It was still a way off, and some troopers would perhaps be begging for water again, but they were all going to be healthier. And the more prudent ones, inspired by Max, would probably be willing to share it now.

It was a good sensation. Better than any chem. And it wasn't dangerous too! Well, unless it happened to be something radioactive. Max had decided to pick Griffon –so was called the ghoul-'s drink, since she figured it was water either way, but she had only realized now that ghouls and humans probably had different ideas on what's clean water and what's not. But those who also drank Aqua-Pura were still on their feet, and the young woman thought that it'd be awkward to accuse the ghoul of selling radioactive water out in the open, so she took another careful sip and then tied the bottle to her belt.

Like other soldiers, Max had slightly distanced herself from the others to drink, even if she was close to a particular group just in case. Not because she was shy, of course, but simply to observe the Mojave with a cooler head. The sun was still harsh up above, but she could more easily ignore it and focus on the seemingly endless stretches of sand in front of her. If she had to take a guess, the Mojave wasn't too different from what it used to be before the nukes fell. Sure, they probably didn't have to deal with giant geckos and ants, but she guessed that it was still very much sand, wind, the occasional bush, and abandoned cars.

Helios ONE was still visible in the distance. It didn't stand as high as Vegas's own tower, but it still contrasted neatly with the wilderness all around. She'd heard of it before, she remembered. Newspaper all over Shady Sands spoke of a crushing victory by the military, that managed to bury half the local chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel and forced the rest to flee or face annihilation. They said how the facility could easily provide power to cities or military bases nearby, and that the soldiers who had died to obtain it ensured that the NCR's future would shine a little brighter.

And then it vanished. No more mentions, apart from occasional mentions that the NCR had hired very skilled scientists to unlock it. "Experts" would say that the Brotherhood had put up traps, but that they would be easily taken care of, and that there were other matters, so forth and forth. No need to guess that those stationed at the facility were bored by now. But at least they were safely away from the Legion or the Fiends.

Max looked around some more to observe the outpost, finding nothing in it but more shacks and vehicles. Then, she turned her head over to a small bridge and found what she recognized to be a car that was in surprisingly much better shape than the others vehicles scattered around the area. She wasn't enough of a car-maniac to acknowledge the exact model or name, but she had two eyeballs, and that was enough for her to see that the vehicle packed wheels, relatively clean windows, doors that were actually shut correctly –as discovered by a fellow trooper, who soon left after realizing the futility of stealing it- and even had some red paint here and there.

It was still in worse shape than what can be found back home, of course, but by the standards of the Wasteland, it was a gift from the heavens. Curious over why the other inhabitants of the outpost would ignore such a vehicle, Max decided to approach it, running her hand along the roof of the car and checking out the vehicle up-close. On closer look, the windows had been broken and put together again about dozen times, judging by the numerous little cracks over them, but that one would only notice upon doing a very close inspection spoke highly of the skills of whoever had to fix them.

"Wow, nice car."

"Yeah," Max froze upon hearing a voice behind her, but turned around with a strained smile on her face, not wanting to look too suspicious. She'd thought that she'd be interrupted by a burly guard or something, but the person who stood in front of her was a young woman, of slightly taller stature than her, wearing green robes and a hood. She kept one hand on her hip and used the other to eat what appeared to be Brahmin cheese. She also had a pleasant smile on her face, instead of a scowl or frown. "It's a Chrysius Highwayman. And it's a pretty good car to have around. Be it to navigate some fancy Californian town or escape roving raiders in the post-apocalyptic desert."

Max stifled a chuckle. "Y-yeah, but don't worry, I was just checking it out up close!" What kind of excuse was that? It only made her look more suspicious!"

"Well, you should be careful about that. I heard the owner of the car is a real asshole," Warned the woman, finishing up her cheese. "She put her car on display on the road and just never use it, can you imagine that? Then when someone tries to check it out, she goes to confront them."

"… W-well, I wouldn't call her an asshole, because the owner must be… you, right?" The hooded woman tilted her head to the side slightly in answer, looking almost surprised.

"Correct! But for all I know, I could be a people-muncher out to consume more than Brahmin cheese. Berk," She grimaced, moving to wipe her mouth with her left hand. "… Anyway, I should probably thank you for paying for these bottles of water earlier. Some of these soldiers were definitely about to shoot up the place, and that would've been a bit bad for all of us."

"Y-you could always thank me by giving me the car away for free," Max said, jamming a thumb over her shoulder at it. The owner of the Highwayman chuckled very slightly. "… Huh, I know it may seem a bit gauche to ask, but what's your name?"

"Veronica. And I guess you're… Doleetle, right?"

"How did you know?" Asked Max, amazed. Veronica simply pointed at her nametag. "… Oh, right. Well, the full name is Max Doleetle. But I do… well, hopefully, I'll do a lot!"

Sad news from Nipton. It appears that the Legion has completely invaded and destroyed the small border town, crucifying and killing its inhabitants along the way. It is recommended that all travelers and caravaners close to the Mojave Outpost be wary of Legion presence in the area. If you see a man in a skirt approaching, I'd suggest runnin'!

But it appears that the Legion will be dealing with bad news of its own. Vulpes Incultas, an eminent lieutenant of Caesar, has been found dead within the burnt wreckage of his own creation, along with the bodies of several of his own men and dogs. A particularly macabre report indicates that Vulpes's head was torn off by some violent force and replaced with an attack dog's. His actual head was found placed upon a dog's body in return.

Things are awfully violent out there, aren't they? It makes you wish for the simpler times, where evil was cunning but sure to lose in the end. Marty Robbins will tell us such an example with "Big Iron"!

…

Fifth chapter! Now we've got interactions with canon characters. Making Benny's text was kinda hard, but I hope that I've done him and Veronica justice. They're not the only canon characters in this chapter too. What did you think of them? Tell it to me with a review, if you've got time!

I do want to stick as close as possible to the excellent lore, but I may try some small changes, at times. Nothing major, of course! Oh, and here's your answer I guess, Cheddar!

Anyhow, as usual, reviews help me out a lot! So don't hesitate to send me one, I may look desperate here, but I guess I just enjoy seeing what people think of my thingies.

Anyhow, see you next week!