It was their little ritual: Every Friday, Max would come to Andrew's place to pick him up for a date or vice-versa. The rest of the week, when not working or trying to find work that is, they'd look out for places they could visit, eat at, or would simply ask friends if they could have a reunion chat. It wasn't particularly exciting to Andrew, who couldn't get any caps out of those little searches, but he'd hate to disappoint her any more than he already did and, besides, it trained him to look for the smallest opportunities and keep an eye about, good qualities for someone of his profession! This particular week, he had gotten done scouring for a nice restaurant one block and a half away from her home. Jones's Iguana or whatever. Pretty neat place! Plus unlike last time, the place wasn't too cheap.

Confident in his chances of success at pleasing Max, Andrew punched in the code necessary to enter the building where she lived and swiftly moved inside, adjusting his shirt and hair rather carefully as he walked by. He liked long coats and stuff, to hide the movements of his legs and arms when he'd want to, but those weren't too romantic so he dropped them for a more très chic attire, at least by the standards of now. He'd be embarrassed to see others look at him now, but thankfully, the few neighbors that were prowling outside their apartments tonight were all looking away at him, their attention focused on a single apartment on the fourth floor or so… Shit.

"I bet she left…. Right now!"

"You can't… old fuck!"

The shouting was muffled enough, with pauses in between, but he'd recognize Max and her father any day. Whatever they were arguing for, he didn't care much for. He'd stopped caring the fourth time, wasn't even surprised the seventh. Sometimes they'd make peace or he'd sleep before Andrew would arrive, but usually, they'd be arguing about the color of the sky or the existence of aliens or other random topics. He'd swear that at times they'd literally get angry over nothing just to have a reason to yell to each other about. But somehow, they'd always stick together in the end, and whenever he had the time to see Max during the day, they were cold at worst. But at night… bah. All that mattered was getting her away from there. Arriving at the closed door, which bravely held out against the verbal onslaught, the young man waited. Not because he cared about the conversation, but because during these moments, the sound of someone knocking at the door was unusually difficult to hear for either of the inhabitants.

"Your mother walked on me first! That's the truth! And I guess Conrad decided to follow in her stead! I'd be worried about you doing the same, but then again you have nowhere else to go, right? No other places would want you!"

"Fuck you! I've got a lot more friends than you do! I could walk away whenever I want!"

"WELL DO IT THEN!"

"I SURE WILL! GO FUCK YOURSELF!" Andrew smiled bemusedly but composed himself. Normally, he'd knock, using the slight lull in the conversation to be heard, but Max's incoming footsteps indicated that such an action would be unneeded yet. And indeed, Max swung the door open like it had personally wronged her in a past life and rushed out of the apartment. Having readied himself ahead of time, Andrew grabbed her before she could slam himself against him and grabbed her by the shoulders, intent on stopping her before she could try to suddenly run away or something like that.

"Hey, Max." He greeted, adorning his often practiced smile. She looked up at him, paranoid that she'd run off with a stranger, and buried her face in his shirt afterward. Not minding it too much, he still awkwardly reached for the opened door and closed it while she was distracted, so that she hopefully wouldn't hear her father going off. He knew how it worked: One of them would "win" the encounter and begin leaving, only for the other to come back into the fray with an insult or argument that'd start it all again. To further help his cause, because Mr. Doleetle had a very strong voice, he began to help her walk down the stairs. Thankfully for the rest of the night, Max decided to help him out in this endeavor by quickly running down the stairs after freeing herself from his arms. Once she was a few floors down, she slowed down and began waiting for Andrew, as he picked up on the pace himself. On the way down, he noticed that a man with a tiny mustache was looking at him funny.

"What were they talking about this time?" He asked, an amused grin on his face.

"Use your ears, it's not like they're whispering to each other, dumbass!" Andrew dismissed, walking down the stairs to meet up with Max. Luckily, the young girl wasn't crying to the side. Instead, she was pacing back and forth, obviously reviewing the argument in her head and pondering about what she could've said to better win it. "… I've got a good place to go to." The short-haired girl turned around and let Andrew wrap an arm around her shoulders. He'd learned not to ask her about her recent interactions unless she started the dialogue: She was always a bit sour after them, and while she'd never transferred her current anger to him, he was still nervous enough to accidentally hit a nerve. When she wanted to, his date was a match for her father in yelling!

"… A place that's pretty far from there I hope," she did that fake chuckle. "I may have ruined a few of my neighbor's sleep. But I guess they're used to it or else we'd have more complaints… Not like he'd care!" She looked down at the ground while they both began to walk, likewise wrapping her arm around his waist. "He never does."

"Well who cares, it's your dad that tends to start the arguments," Andrew said, before hoping to quickly switch the subject. "Ok, so I hope you like iguanas because…"

"I started that one. I asked him why he never eat the food I made for him," the black-haired man listened quietly, but dreaded the coming date. "… Say, do you think I cook well? I like to think I'm decent since I've been handling that for a little while but..." She trailer, while turning to him.

"I think you do. Way better than the last dive I took you to at least!" He replied. She laughed a little, with renewed energy. They both weren't so happy a few weeks ago after visiting "Happy's Slumpy!", the one place in Shady Sands where taste buds come to die.

"Well, that's not much of a compliment if you compare me to them! It's like comparing a raider with a Deathclaw! Why, Andrew, I might just be offended right now! I wonder what I could do to punish you…" She stroked her chin as they both exited the building, taking a look at Shady Sands by night. The lights of the buildings above and the street lamps guided them, but Andrew hoped that his memory wouldn't be failing him. Already, he quietly wondered if he had taken the right path. "… Maybe I could have you pay for the whole meal, huh?"

"O-oh come on, Maxxie! I don't do much at my current job! It's neat and easy to paint walls, but they get so stingy with paying at the end!" The young man groaned and looked down at his suit. "And that paint get anywhere… Plus, it's always green. Who likes green? It's an ugly color. A green building's the one where they collect your taxes or something, trust me! I've seen Brahmin slaughterhouses with some more joy in them!"

"Oh come on, you give Shady Sands such wonderful shades with every stroke!" Max detached herself from Andrew to walk in front of him and pinched the tip of his nose. "I want to work at a building that you painted yourself! It'd be a place where I'd know you'd be constantly watching over me and that's a bit inspiring to me." She kept walking in front of him, her back turned to any obstacles. Knowing this, Andrew did a tiny gesture whenever she approached a street light, trashcan, or distracted citizen, and she'd move in the appropriate direction. It took him all of his mental might to not point her the wrong way, but he cared enough about Max not to pull that on her.

"That's a bit creepy! You'd want me to stalk you?" He raised his arms over his head and loomed over her, in the manner of those Old World horror flicks.

"No! I meant in the romantic sense! Like your presence's forever here with me or something!" Andrew gave a little laugh and walked past her, though she insisted on keeping ahead.

"That's still a bit creepy. It sounds like I'm dead," Max paled at that, and a tinge of regret caught him. "… It's okay, it's okay! I get what you mean… and I disagree! You and me, I don't see working in a boring office in about three years! We'll have enough money to live off the countryside or something. Shady Sands's great! But it's even greater if we live somewhere quiet and safe, ya know? You, me, the Brahmins…" He tried to reach for her, but Max sped ahead of him and turned to lean her back against a wall, resting one foot against it.

"In three years, you see the two of us living somewhere out of the city?" She very briefly smiled at the idea, but as usual with Max, uncertainty very soon ensued. Hm… I'd love to but… well, there's dad and…"

Andrew laughed briefly again, but it was a bit more strained. "A quiet life in the countryside, Max." He repeated, with particular emphasis.

"That sounds really neat, Andrew! But I need to take care of him. I can't up and abandon him…" She gave a look at the lit window of the building where she lived. If it were something more dramatic, her father would be standing there, eyes ablaze with fury, but Andrew knew that the old man had difficulty using his legs anyhow. Well, he'd be petty enough to drag himself to the window to glare at his daughter, and perhaps even open it to keep the verbal battle going, but tonight he was a bit lazier than usual it seemed. "He doesn't always act like this, I…"

"You're making up excuses again, Max," Andrew said, his annoyance filtering through already. Couldn't they eat Iguana sticks in peace? "You guys yell at each other so often that I could make a fortune selling earplugs!" Max did that awkward chuckle unique to her and fidgeted with the bottom of her shirt.

"… Well, he's still my dad. I can't leave him behind, can I?"

"Ask your brother." He shrugged his shoulders, the ever-elusive Conrad. It was a bit of a random guess, he'd left to "study" abroad. But Andrew knew that he meant to get away from the wonderful family arguments and in general. Fighting raiders and moving across the wastes, harsh even within the relatively safe Core Regions, had to seem pretty liberating in comparison.

"… He's still with the Followers at the Boneyard and… ah, you know what?" Max stepped off and wrapped her arms around his right arm. "Let's forget dad and all of that stuff, okay? We're going to spend a night at a couple doing couple things. I worry too much about dad during the day to let him ruin my nights!" Andrew smiled warmly at that and began to walk down the street with her in tow. He was a bit disappointed they couldn't sleep at his home tonight but, well, he couldn't call them all. "Huh, by the way, I was joking about the bill thing! Let's split it when we'll get there, right? Or… wait no! I'll handle more than half of it, or all of it if you want!"

"Oh really? You don't need to do that."

"Well, I don't need, perhaps, but I certainly won't! I can't have you find the restaurant and let you pay it all up!" Andrew smiled, and not only because he was touched by the attention: He was also glad that he wouldn't have to pay much, if at all, over the restaurant. But it'd ruin the romance if he said it straight-up, he'd learned that on previous relationships. So he gave the old wink and smile and drew Max closer for a kiss, which she accepted gladly. A few onlookers gave them a look, most of them quietly amused or touched by it. He let them do it, wrapping his arms around Max's waist and keeping the kiss going to sell it as much as possible to the audience. It was merely in his nature to do that. He let the kiss linger on for a few more seconds before they separated slightly, though they kept their arms around each other.

"… Shall we go?" He said, placing his right hand on her cheek. "Or we might be late to our reservations. I've had to fight for these seats, literally! I've still got a scar where an old lady struck me with her cane!" The youth gesticulated to the back of his right shoulder, and Max patted him there with her right hand.

"Aww, don't worry about that nasty granny! I'll beat her up if she comes back to steal it!" And with that, they were off, their minds free of their earlier doubts. For Max, that meant not thinking about her dad for a few hours, not thinking about the Shady Sands boredom, and also seeing Andrew at his best. For Andrew, this meant not thinking too much about his plot to steal a part of the paint given to him, superheat it in his basement, trap the fumes in a jar and sell it to a few "friends" desperately looking to get high. Three days after the date, he'd be fired from his job after being reported for the thief by a fellow coworker, Downes. He sometimes bitterly wondered if he could've seen her coming if he hadn't taken the time off with Max, but his very nature requested him not to dwell on past mistakes too much, and instead focused on the future… mistakes to make later.

But he also wondered where he'd be if he had stuck to that job or swallowed his pride. He knew from the start he'd never be a farmboy like he'd promised Max. The thrill of adventuring and outwitting… it was simply too great. But still: What if he stuck by those words? What if he had remained a painter or taken a lucrative desk job where he was paid to fill paperwork or do nothing? He wouldn't be having too much fun, perhaps, but was he having fun right now, with his body desperately battling against withdrawal? Was that a bit of regret? Maturity? Realizing he'd screwed the pooch? He couldn't put his finger on it: His brain was going too fast while the rest of his body was moving at the pace of a rock. He could see himself as a kid, celebrating his seventh birthday with only Max and Matthew around to provide him with relief. Or remember that time a farmer spotted him stealing crops and set his hellhounds loose on him. Was that his mom holding him in her arms, cradling her baby boy to sleep with a sweet song and a smile? He thought that his life flashing back would be less… linear, huh. And now, he was back to the present, with that blond doctor kneeling near him, barely out of his field of view. "Are you hearing me? Blink twice if you do. Erm, with haste, if you please," Andrew did as asked, and the man looked relieved, though he proceeded to slightly adjust the young man's head to keep him staring at the ceiling. "You are suffering from Jet withdrawal. Look at it and nowhere else. Blink twice if you hear me." He blinked twice, letting the man in a funny coat handle things, and studied the crap out of that tent ceiling.

What was it now? Oh yeah. His little cheat at The Tops. Or was it Gomorrah? Huh, didn't matter, names are stupid. You give names to differentiate things, right? So call them "Casino 1, casino 2, casino 3" and make it easier. Anyhow, it was a game of roulette. Or something spinny was involved. That fat guy and he had been fighting for dominance over the jetons for a while now, and it had seemed that the winds of change were favoriting Andrew for once. He'd won many little bets, grew bolder and bolder and the roulette had liked him until now. Everyone else had folded eventually or "quit while they were ahead", so he figured that he was being rewarded for having balls. Anyway, that fat guy was really sweaty and had even taken his cigar off to show that he was serious about things. "Well, Mr. Dehoum!" He said. Andrew listened, not taking his eyes off the guy: It was easy, because he, the fat man, and the roulette were both trapped in a pitch-black void, so where else would he look? "If you leave while you're ahead, you've got enough money that you could certainly buy yourself a nice thing back home! You from Shady Sands?"

"Yeah," He had said, sliding every single of his gains forward on the table. The other man had a very brief psychotic smirk on his face when he saw the bait fulfilling its purpose, but controlled himself admirably afterward. "And when I return, I'll have so much money, I'll become the president of the NCR!"

"How prestigious to host a future celebrity such as yourself in our fine establishment! But why stop there, Mr. Dehoum? You could leave with your gains and let democracy run its course… or you could leave with enough money to make a few voices louder and a few other quieters if you get me." Andrew had already made his answer clear enough, and the croupier took the massive amount of jetons presented to him as a far better "yes" than anything the young man could vocalize. He used one of those funny stick things to draw in the first part and then pulled another out of the void to rack the rest in. Andrew told himself it'd be his last bet, but he had said that to himself about the nine earlier bets. Still, ending with a "ten" was a pretty nice way to go! Soon as that was out, he'd use the money to buy himself a nice room. Preferably high, to watch over New Vegas, and would contemplate the next casino he'd rob blind. Well, he doubted he could go there though: In that void, there wasn't a room, nor an elevator to bring him to it in the first place nor even a New Vegas to observe.

"Well, Andrew! Choose a basket!" He looked down at the roulette and pointed at the black basket number fifteen. Instantly, all of his jetons teleported on the spot, and the croupier immediately began the game, his eyes set on the ball that would determine the ending of the game. Curiously, Andrew wasn't, but that's because he knew that the ball would fall on the opposite side of the roulette from fifteen. C'mon, what did you think? He'd already done it earlier! Still, even with his anticipation, he was crushed to see his ultimate bet fail, as the ball completely missed its mark like it had grown sentient and very spiteful.

"Hah! It looks like you'll be running for the position of janitor instead of president, Mr. Dehoum!" Taunted the fat man. Two thugs emerged from the void behind Andrew and grasped his tiny arms with their enormous limbs, trapping him in a steel grip, before slithering further into the void with him in tow. For the crime of making a ruckus and having no money, both major crimes in New Vegas, he was thrown into Freeside. And his world had become that decrepit slum for the following months as he struggled to regain the money he'd need to try his luck again. Not to leave, but to get back at those jerks and up in that tower of his. He'd look at it, sometimes, to regain the drive to go to the Strip. Would he let himself by a recluse, he thought? 'Course not, he's Andrew. He'd get the man to come down from that tower to beg him to stay or something eventually! The universe would get in the way, as it did via Dixon, but he wouldn't let it stop him.

Outside, in the real world, two hands emerged to hold his head still and fixated on the ceiling. Was it that doctor? No, he was giving him more of the funny stuff that made him feel much better, and he couldn't have four arms on him, right? Well, why couldn't he? He's a doctor, so maybe he experimented with himself or something right? Andrew further lost himself in his head as the Fixer was given to him. With each dose, he remembered how to move one of his limbs. And then his head. And then the rest of his body. He still felt a tinge of pain in his… ah, everywhere though. His heart also was locked in a fierce fight with his thorax or something, because it was still pounding away at it at a fast pace, almost like it wanted to break free… but why would it? It was nice being his heart right?

"… Can I talk to him?"

"Hm, he'd probably need time to recover first. Jet withdrawal is pretty serious and taking ten doses of Fixer will wear down even a horse… Well, not like they're around anymore for us to test that. Huh, also, you may want to take a look at your knuckles." He could see Max look at her bloodstained hands with surprise. Had she walked all the way there without knowing that she was bleeding there? More importantly: What could get her to bleed like that? Andrew thought that as soon as he was back on his feet, he'd go pay whoever did that a little visit. Yeah, he'd just need to convince somebody taller and more muscular to help him out first.

"… Oh, r-right, I have a bone coming out so that's pretty bad."

"No. I don't think it's a bone. It's somebody else's tooth," Arcade leaned in closer to inspect. "… Yeah. It's bad for you. Getting an infection in Freeside is incredibly easy and the tooth could do damage if left untreated. You're still bound to have it easier than Dixon though. I'll treat it for you."

"O-oh, you'd treat me even after all I did?" Max spoke. The blond doctor hummed as an answer.

"Well, from a moral standpoint, refusing to heal someone because we share different opinions would be a disrespect to the principles of the Followers," Argued the man. "You're a soldier of the NCR, and you seem to take awfully well to your colleague's imperialistic nonsense if I may say so, but you're still someone in need. And that means that I'll help you out."

Emma pouted slightly at his words and held her hands out to let him work his magic. "Dixon handed out drugs and poisoned my friends, he deserved to get beaten up."

"Via ad Infernum consiliis bonis delapidatur," Spoke Arcade. Max stared blankly, opened her mouth to say something, and closed it. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Pvt. Doleetle. Frankly, I think a lot of my colleagues would've liked to be in your place and beat up Dixon… but as I said, he's but one of the hydra's heads. You've cut one-off, but the rest of the heads are still active and the one you've severed is going to grow back soon. Erm, the hydra is a gigantic multi-headed snake monster of the myths of old, by the way. It's a purely fictional beast or so I hope. You never know with these radiations..." Max nodded, understanding the metaphor quite a bit more. She was sure that Emma would've answered back, as she was certain that it would've been an insult or a dismissal of Arcade. So the young private said nothing and sat there, accepting his point. It was acknowledging his point as much as it was secretly fearing that the doctor would unintentionally botch the procedure just to get back at her. It was a pretty paranoid thought to have around.

"… My brother, he huh, was taught medicine by you guys at the Boneyard by the way," Sitting there and letting the man get to work was nice but a bit boring: With Andrew out of commission, perhaps too tired to process, and Emma outside gathering the rest of the troops to bring Dixon to McCarran, there was no one else to talk to and distract herself from the pain, suppressed by her adrenaline no more. "His name is Conrad Doleetle, you might have met him!"

"I do not remember meeting someone of that name, my apologies." He didn't take his eyes off her hands at all, and Max was left waiting in silence once more.

"… Well, he was but he had to quit when we split. Huh, I still think he believes in your cause though and that's pretty nice of him! You guys… you did a lot of help to the world by safeguarding all that knowledge and medicine. It's not like the Brotherhood where you're all big armored jerkwads keeping all that stuff for yourselves and for that, huh, I guess I must thank you!"

"Flattery won't make the operation go any faster," he answered, a touch of amusement in his voice. "I'm more concerned about his reaction to you joining the army. Does he know you're out there, spilling out your and other's blood for the sake of a Brahmin Overlord?"

"Huh... Yeah, he protested pretty bad but he relented. I know what I'm doing here after all! I'm looking out for my own," Arcade very briefly took his eyes off the procedure but soon focused on it. He was good at his job if she couldn't feel that much pain from it. Well, the disinfectant wasn't too pleasant but Max attempted to ignore that to satisfy her inner Emma. "Yeah, I'm looking out for my own … Huh, exploring the world as well, all those things. I sort of pictured it as a quieter place though. Well, I knew the Legion's dangerous, but the propaganda at home doesn't… speak of all of it. How vicious the Fiends are, how bad they have it at Freeside, the training too."

"That's the purpose of propaganda," he stopped and checked her knuckles and didn't look too satisfied with his handiwork. "… Hm, that should do. I'll apply bandages. Do treat your knuckles carefully for the next week or more. If you get into a fight with another private over missing rations, consider kicking." Max gave a very awkward chuckle and got up.

"I'll handle the bandaging part. Don't worry, there's probably a lot of people who need more help anyhow! My brother taught me a few things in case of an emergency so I'll do well… Oh, and also!" the NCR soldier opened one of her pockets and leaned left, to spill its content down to the ground. Caps fell out of it and into the ground. It was pretty fortunate that Dixon had tied the caps together via tiny pieces of ropes, perhaps for the sake of easier transactions. Beating up a man and taking all his "hard-earned" money would cause remorses for Max, but not in the case of Dixon. In fact, giving away all that money to someone else filled the young soldier with pride. "Here's Dixon's money. You'll be able to use it to help yourselves with supplies and all."

"Huh, thanks?" Arcade reached for the caps and studied them. "I'm not sure that Julie would approve of robbing someone else, even if that happens to be Dixon. That's some pretty dirty money." He could tell her about who controlled the flow of drugs in Freeside but he was sure that both women would attempt to gun down the Garrets. And while he wouldn't lose sleep over their deaths, Freeside definitely didn't need an extra dose of violence today. The good doctor was already shocked to see the NCR send some of its soldiers to check on a disappearance. But perhaps those recent victories over the Powder Gangers and Khans had freed up some of them? Nonetheless, he didn't want the NCR to try and "fix" Freeside, because "fixing" a problem in NCR vocabulary means pushing it away or drowning it in conscripted lives.

"W-well, you could always just pretend that I accidentally spilled it!"

"How very… New Californian of you," The Follower raised his hand. "But if I'm honest, any donation is a worthwhile one. Money doesn't buy happiness, but it buys medical supplies. Here's a thing the bombs should've wiped away…" Grumbling, he picked up the caps. Max smiled, content to have helped around. It made the next part of things a bit easier as she handed some of these caps to Andrew. Or rather, put them next to his unconscious body in silence. "Am I to assume that these caps belong to him?" Almost yelping, the young girl spun to face the medic and nodded.

"Could you excuse a bit of selfishness? He and I, we go way back. He only needs a few of those to get home anyhow… Hell, I'd help with that but he's a bit out of it, right?" She glanced backward and poked her ex in the cheek, to which he didn't react.

"Yeah. He's probably vaguely aware of his surroundings, but I don't think you'll get a soulful conversation or recovery out of him for the moment. We'll help with getting back on his feet though. I cannot promise that he'll make righteous use of those caps though." He paused, searching his words, but Max only smiled knowingly.

"He's like that, yeah… But I hope this will at least get him to realize what he's been doing. Andrew's always been a little selfish like that." Andrew quietly dozed in his side of the tent, having peacefully gone to sleep during the little chat between the soldier and the doctor. The former was bitter at their reunion is cut short like that: There were so many questions to ask: Why'd he take so much chems? Why'd he stick around for so long instead of leaving as soon as he had the chance? What had he done in that little urban hell? But her frustration was not caused by a lack of answers, no. It was that she knew them to begin with. He thought he could outsmart and when that didn't work out, he tried to do the same with Freeside. It had been a harsh lesson but she hoped it'd prove to be the one that'd stick. A drug withdrawal was much harsher than the reprimands and slaps-on-the-wrists back home, after all. "… I know you're not awake, Andrew, and that's fine. But please, try to listen to my voice or whatever: Leave the Mojave. Soon as you've recovered, take the first caravan and leave. Don't try to outsmart the Strip. They're smarter than you and even less moral. Go home, pick a job, ask Matthew and… wait for me, alright? We'll talk. About the good things and the bad things. But we'll get to talk, right? A-anyway… Don't let me catch you here if I come back because I'll kick your ass so hard you'll fly all the way back home! Erm… See you later," Max put her hand on Andrew's head and stroked his hair a little. Then, she got up. "Thank you for the help, by the way!" She finally began to put some wrappings around her hands, Arcade quietly handing them over to her. It still hurt, but pain is weakness leaving the body or so said Emma.

"You're welcome. It's not what I should be doing but… who am I to deny people in need?" he shrugged his shoulders. "I'll try to help with getting Andrew back home, even if I can only offer a meager encouragement not to head back to the Strip." The blond man shook his head and prepared to step outside. "But there's so much that the words of a single Follower can do against the blinding lights of Vegas and its promises of great riches, I'm afraid."

"It's alright. We look after our own, right?" Max gave Andrew one last look, finding herself envious of how peaceful he was at the moment. "Well, see you later! Or erm, not see you later! I… I guess you get it!"

…

Max left the fort and headed back to the main gate of Freeside, an easy feat because of its proximity to the place. Emma had picked up this place as a rendezvous point for a few reasons but the main one was getting to piss off the Kings by just standing there, defying them by her mere presence. Dixon was laying at her feet, unconscious and sat on by a soldier of sturdier composition. Upon seeing the young woman head towards them, Emma gave her a short glance and smirked approvingly at the bandages. "I guess those bandages will make for a cool war story later tonight," she stepped off the wall and approached Max, quickly grabbing her hands to study the bandages. "You'll say that you stopped a madman's knife bare-handed or something. But beating somebody up so hard the hurt transferred back to you also sounds pretty badass… Your old's flame doing okay? The bad doctor didn't fill your head with anarchist ideals or something?" Emma smiled teasingly at Max, who kept her cool by only shaking her head nine times in a row. Then she did it a tenth time after a brief pause.

"I gave him the Fixer and the caps. He said something in Latin or-…" She tried to memorize, but instead, Emma clicked her tongue derisively, cutting her off.

"You gave him your caps?"

"He needs these more than I do. You did give me that sniper rifle, right?" Max jammed her thumb over the shoulder, towards the barrel of her gun. "C'mon, as penance, I'll stick to the beans tonight!"

"Hm, yeah… Anyhow, we're going to take Dixon back to McCarran for interrogation. I don't trust the lieutenant Kieran to be able to safely do so here because those fucking junkies will try to break him out. 'Sides he'll give that Centurion company. Heard even those guys in the Legion don't approve of drugs."

"But won't they try to retaliate anyway?" Said Max, hesitancy in her voice. Emma snapped her fingers upon seeing the truck arrive, and the little group began to walk out of Freeside. Max paced ahead, glad to leave the place behind. It didn't help that the Kings were throwing some fearsome glares their way, even if they couldn't quite get into a firefight yet, with the civilians in the way. had no reason to get involved in Freeside, but if the inhabitants were to start attacking customers with money in their pocket, he'd surely make a move to squash them. Or he wouldn't, but nobody wanted to have robots rolling down the neighborhood filling bodies with bullets and grenades, so they stuck to their lane.

But now that she had gone ahead and did it, Max considered Arcade's advice in a new light. Though if she were honest to herself, she'd probably pummel Dixon again if she had the chance to do so.

"Our guys can handle a bunch of drug-addled zombies. Worst come to worst, we finish what we started," suggested Emma, casually. "C'mon, I'm tired of looking at this dump." Max agreed at a quiet pace, wondering if she'd need to see the place again. Would it take a day? A week? Months? It was too short a time for her. Freeside had this… "quality" to it that no other places of the Mojave had. All the grim despair of the Mojave with the pure cynism of Vegas.

"Speaking of dump, Max. I've got an idea. Remember what we spoke about earlier? Those Fiend leaders?"

"… Yes?" Max's eyes widened in realization, and Emma gave her a triumphant little smirk.

"You familiar with the name Driver Nephi?"

…

The Atomic Wrangler was one of these bastions of Freeside, where all manners of souls went to. Be it, travelers, players preparing themselves for the casinos of the Strip, players who hadn't prepared themselves for the casinos of the Strip, or folks looking to waste some of their hard-earned caps on booze and prostitutes, many people happened to frequent the place. The Garret twins ran things smoothly and always had work available for people with a flexible moral compass. A very flexible moral compass. Like delivering drugs or making sure that people weren't too late on their due payment. Lots of people flocked to these jobs, perceiving them as easy enough, but it took true professionals to see them done. All it took was an angry junkie with a knife or a runaway client with a gun to end one's trip to the Mojave, after all.

But Wayne was no amateur.

"Here's your money," Francine Garret witnessed as the ghoul dropped two bags of caps on her desk, pushing away some bottles beforehand. "Santiago had fled to Westside and Jane was at Crimson Caravan, trying to hitch a ride back home. Had to get through Fiends and thugs for Westside, so I apologize for any delay."

"You got me my caps back, it's all that matters," Francine nodded at one of the guards in the shop, and he advanced to take the bags away and put them somewhere safe. Wayne stood still in front of the desk, observing as she laid out a bag of her own. "… Say, are you good at distribution?"

"I will not take Dixon's place," he cut her off, grabbing his reward. "You could always ask McCaffery, he's not doing too great at his current job." With a hint of mockery in his flat voice, Wayne glanced at the mustached man sitting in a corner of the room, who had been glaring at his back ever since his entrance into the bar.

"That's too bad… but we'll get some replacements anyway, good work, Wayne." Francine returned to her work, cleaning out an empty glass, but noticed seconds into it that Wayne had not moved from his spot. Then, after standing still as a statue for three more seconds, Wayne raised the bag and slammed it down back unto the desk, prompting the twins to jump back in fright. A few other customers also fell out of their stools or spat their drinks. "What the fuck was that?!"

"I'd like to pay for Hadrian. Release him from his contract," Wayne leaned back and put his hands down on his belt, in case things turned ugly. "You'll also give him all those caps I've just earned. You won't get to mock him anymore."

Francine adjusted her tie a little, not used to be the intimidated party. "You'll have to ask James to "

"I'll only talk to you on that matter," he cut her off, again, and gave James a single glance. James made himself as small as he could, letting Francine handle the "negotiations". "Release him."

"That's a… well, in negotiations, parties tend to offer equivalent exchanges, right? You're asking me to let Hadrian go when his spectacles are quite lucrative to us in exchange for a very small sum of money, I-"

"The equivalent exchange is you living to see a new sunrise." Francine watched in anticipation: With but one word, she could have every guard in the place fill Wayne with lead. The numbers were on their side. He had primitive revolvers to go around with and no body armor, so they should win a fight handily. They… they would, right? It'd take one word and she'd have him torn apart with ease. Just one word and-

"I'll let Hadrian go. The contract is void."

"… Pleasure dealing with you," Wayne spoke, switching tone with eerie ease. He headed out towards Hadrian, who seemed ever so slightly horrified at what had happened, but stopped and looked back at Francine. "And don't mind the earlier tension. I'm just looking out for my own."

…

Howdy. My name is Jed Masterson, and I'm a caravan boss for the Happy Trails Caravan Company. If you're hearing this, I have a job offer for you. Happy Trails is organizing an expedition north into Utah, off the Long 15, and we need people. We're looking for caravan guards, prospectors, couriers - if you're used to humping it across the Wastes straight toward trouble, we want you. If you've got a Pip-Boy, we definitely want you. On the other hand, if you're a greenhorn or a city-slicker spinning tales about your skills, you can kindly go hang. If we like your gumption, we'll pay you square and treat you fair. Find me, Jed Masterson, at the Northern Passage if you're interested. Luck to you.

…

Here's chapter 14 complete. It serves as an end to Freeside's arc, if you please. I can't promise we won't see the place again, but it'll feature less in the coming chapters.

I've been thinking of renaming this fic « Moon River », whaddya think? I've also decided to perhaps make for shorter length chapters nowadays. 10K might be too long, but like the title issue, I'd like for your input on that matter. I love getting reviews, advices etc so feel free to give any if you'd please. And yeap, Emma is a bit like Moore! They're not too pleasant to have around if you're not NCR!

What did you think of this chapter ? Also I'll say, a part of the beginning was somewhat inspired by personal stuff. I know it may sounds silly but people can argue about really dumb stuff sometimes! I do hope that she's an entertaining character on her own!

Anyway, see you later alligator!