Veronica liked her car. A Chryslus "highwayman," gluttonous in energy cells, but the Fiends in the arena were happy to provide. That random REPCONN facility near Vegas also offered the car with about a year worth of battery. She liked being able to get to wherever she wanted in a day top and outrun raiders. However, her fellow much preferred running them over. But a car is a bit like a big metallic baby: You need to take care of it because it won't be able to take care of itself with its tiny wheel arms. Every little mark, or bump, or broken headlight was something she needed to fix. Not to mention the risk of theft, since many inhabitants of the Mojave would very much enjoy having their own vehicle to ride around with. And she didn't blame them for wanting to: Sometimes, she had an urge to get in and ride all the way to the ocean, like the Boneyard.
But that'd be abandoning her friends and family back here, and she didn't have the heart to do that. So, for now, the car was to get around quickly, easily, safely. But then came the matter of parking the car and making sure it wouldn't be stolen or wrecked. The Courier seemed like an obvious fit for a guard, with his size alone repelling most of the would-be thieves or wreckers. Still, more than once, she caught him walking off in a random direction and coming back with a body part in his hands, so she didn't trust him to be an adequate defender of the vehicle. And Veronica was unsure that he wouldn't randomly destroy or wreck the car in a rage fit either. And she theorized about simply parking it next to McCarran's entrance before telling the soldiers to watch over it. Still, then he'd just slaughter them too on a whim. Even she didn't feel so safe around him at times, and tasking a pair of soldiers to properly manage the lunatic was out of the question. God, Elijah would've hated the man. Anyone in the Brotherhood would since he embodied the Wasteland's inhabitants in their eyes. Still, Elijah would despise him the most out of all. Then again, there wasn't much her mentor liked.
… Anyway, she decided to drop him off in Fiend territory, with the instruction to "go wild" on the funny people with skull hats and no shirts, and then went on to park near McCarran. He'd survive them, she thought, and it kept her hands free for… an hour or so, which is the time where she'd come in and pick him up again. It seemed a bit much, but Veronica had seen enough of the NCR's bureaucracy to avoid the reward getting lost somewhere. And besides, they still had to kill Nephi, so she'd get the money and walk on foot to join up with the Courier later.
Yes, she would walk into the territory of the violent drug addicts to reunite with an even more violent meathead in the middle of his rampage. "Girl, you may want to use all these caps to buy yourself some common sense!" thought Veronica...
She walked into McCarran carrying Cook-Cook's flamethrower over her shoulder. She also put his head in a bag after desperately trying to undo the damages done to it by the Courier. The Brotherhood scribe didn't care about skipping on the money but also cared about not getting murdered by a vengeful Courier after telling him that he'd screwed them both out of the rewards. She could only hope for leniency out of Dhatri's part… but first, she'd need to find him. The courtyard was a vast place after all, and the soldiers around it scurried like ants.
Veronica looked around but knew that what she was carrying on herself would attract some attention eventually. And indeed it did. "Veronica?" the scribe glanced to her right to notice that Max had been the one to call her out. It was an odd bit of coincidence, but it worked out in her favor, so she didn't see it to question it.
"Oh hey Max!" the woman before her was… different from before. The stance hadn't changed too much, even if she perhaps was a bit more hunched forward, but her eyes told a different story from earlier. Looking back, Veronica had stumbled near the spot where she and that other soldier had been practicing their aim, had something happened to the latter? Veronica prepared herself to ask Max but recognized that it perhaps wasn't her place to ask. God knows she'd hate it if someone she spoke to twice started to grill some very personal questions from her out of the blue.
"Hey Veronica," Max gave a weak wave with her left hand. With her right hand, she held the strap tying her rifle to her back. "I see you killed Cook-Cook?"
Veronica lifted the flamethrower overhead, having cut it off from any fuel source it could use. The Fiends took care of their weaponry slightly better than the average Jackal, but it didn't mean that it was safe to wield around. Good ol' Cook-Cook would've probably been offed by an explosion somewhere down the line. "Yes. He wanted to have us over for dinner, but I had to respectfully decline. Beef and human flesh isn't my thing." It was the Courier's, however. She even swiped some of the meat to better alleviate the hulking madman. It was far from being proud of, but the Wasteland does not make you picky. Hell, if you live long enough to even regret your choices, you're pretty successful.
Max laughed; it sounded a slight hollow for Veronica's tastes. "That's great to hear. That's… about three leaders killed too!" the scribe raised a curious eyebrow. "Driver Nephi's dead. Sorry, we… tried to not be "outdone" by mercenaries, though now I think perhaps we should've let you…" she looked away and began to walk past the mechanic. "Follow me; I'll lead you to the major!"
"Thank you. I can't say I'll miss bringing decapitated heads to the Major. There's a… brutal charm to it." Veronica had heard that other bounty hunters, like at Randall and Associates, brought fingers. Dhatri had been dismissive of the idea, though, because the fingers of the Fiends tend to look the same and that it's not enough proof on its own. She could understand the paranoia: Some fiends had managed to somehow stay alive even after getting their chests caved in, or their limbs ripped off.
Max once again laughed flatly but slightly amplified the effort at the end to try and sound more human. "I know. They're hard to kill like that… It's why I've been practicing headshots on them. Shots to the heart can also stop them, but the head is just a bit more lethal." Veronica, who'd been walking behind the brunette, noticed some crosses on the butt of the rifle. She'd carved five marks, then crossed them at what she assumed was the sixth kill before moving on. Veronica "assumed" because five more notches were present below the original one, themselves waiting to be crossed.
Was that really the awkward young girl who handed out free water bottles for everyone? Veronica couldn't say that she was surprised to see the Mojave toughen someone up like that, but the "getting marks on your rifle" phase wasn't that quick, right? "Sounds like you're pretty good at that. Ever thought of putting up a red beret and sunglasses?" Max gave another weird chuckle, and Veronica considered dropping the attempts at humor. Sure, Pvt. Doleetle sounded more and more convincing with her chuckling, but the little silence between Veronica's words and the actual reaction was quite damning.
"No," she then assured. "I'm not that good at all… I'm glad you think I am, but I'm… not good at shooting yet." Max hurriedly looked away to point ahead at Dhatri in the distance. Seeing this as an invitation to end the conversation, for now, Veronica shuffled behind the soldier until they could reach Dhatri. However, the NCR veteran approached as well after spotting Veronica and Max. The latter immediately saluted when they were close enough, which Dhatri quickly replicated.
"At ease, Private First Class," he turned to Veronica as Max relaxed her stance, eyed the bag, watched the flamethrower, and looked at her. "I guess your friend wasn't too careful with the head."
"Not really, but at least he didn't get to… never mind. Here lays the dread Cook-Cook. I guess some hungry Fiends out there are already missing him."
"With that kind of smell…." Dhatri opened the bag and peeked inside. Max, against her better judgment, imitated the older man. What was inside was… messed up. She could feel the bile climbing up her throat already. Her brain was very certainly taking pictures of the bag's content for later, like when she'd be settling down for dinner. Still, the more she got used to the violence of the wastes, the better right? But she may have overestimated her resistance. Or maybe the goop reminded her a bit too much of what had been left of a certain someone. Either way, while Dhatri's lip merely twitched in brief disgust, Max walked back confusedly, only barely preventing herself from falling over in shock before doing like a tree and standing still.
"That's more of a soup than a head," the officer warned, keeping an eye on Max but not letting himself fall to any distraction yet. Veronica did keep a closer eye, worried about the soldier's safety. It had been a few days in between their latest encounters, right? And yet, it looked like she'd done a year of it going by behavior. And she'd seen those little bags under her eyes too. Had losing Emma affected her this badly? Sure, they seemed friendly with one another, but... ah, questions for later. "I can't give you all the caps for it; I apologize. You brought Violet's head back, so I'm confident you've brought back Cook-Cook, but I can't give you the full reward."
Veronica proceeded to bite her lips, briefly letting go of Max's current predicament to focus on herself. The reward for Cook-Cook had been halved, and they wouldn't even be getting Nephi's. There were bounty hunting companies, sure, but she didn't want to stay with the hulking cannibal anymore than necessary. Hell, he was beginning to significantly outweigh the benefices of going to the Strip to check out 's gambling utopia up close. She could probably go there by herself now since she was carrying all the caps anyway, but she still didn't have the money to go the Strip; Freeside was an awful place, and he'd be out for blood.
The latest wasn't too damning; she knew it'd come to this once she'd bail on him, but Veronica would instead correctly prepare for it. God knew she didn't want to spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder in fear of seeing the infernal mailman burst through the doors of the bunker with malice in his eyes.
Should she abandon it all and leave while she still had time? She had thoughts of doing that. Taking the money, walking into the Strip, enjoying it, and tinkering with its technologies... but an unsupervised Courier would spell doom for Freeside once he stumbled into it. After destroying the community, he would attack the guard Securitrons and likely win before spreading chaos into the Strip.
It was perhaps better for Veronica to stay his companion for a slightly longer while, to better assess when to ditch him. It made her a traitor, which wasn't too enlightening for the scribe, but no one in the Mojave would mind the Courier's prompt disappearance.
Anyway, now to actually get the caps.
"I can see you're not too thrilled by this," interrupted Dhatri, grabbing the bag and closing it. "But I do bring some good news as well. Colonel Hsu would like to see you! He's been impressed with your work for the Republic and is sure you could deal with a certain situation on our behalf, in exchange for a reward, of course."
"Well, you may as well be slapping an NCR uniform on me now!" Veronica put her hands on her hips with a teasing smirk. "But I'll do what I can to help. Seems like you guys need it. Hm… Max? Would you mind leading me to Hsu while you're here? You could do me a little tour of the facility too!" The soldier shot up and shook her head like a frightened gecko, almost reaching for her gun in panic. She relatively smoothly transitioned into pointing over her shoulder, though, at the base behind her.
"I can't promise I'll be a good guide… Follow me, Veronica." she gave a weary smile and saluted Dhatri once more. The lieutenant, before departing, handled Veronica a small bag worth of caps, just small enough to fit in her palm; oh boy!
"Looking to get to the Strip?" the older soldier said, stepping back to… ah, do whatever he could in that chaos outside, where soldiers randomly trained, ran around, or talked. He smiled slightly, amused at the idea. "You could take our monorail if you want!"
Veronica chuckled nervously and turned around, already in the process of walking off. "Oh no, don't worry! We're going to buy some slaves from the Legion with all that money! It's for a good cause!" She'd thought of the monorail solution since they were… decently well-liked but deemed that the Courier would cause a slaughter at some point during the travel. The man's killing frenzies were... on a whim, let's say.
And Veronica was finding herself almost emphasizing with those young privates. Sure, the NCR in itself was poised to be the death of the Brotherhood, and they took whatever they wanted, but most of the ground troops were farmhands or city folks scared out of their wits. They didn't deserve to die, especially not at the hands of the Courier. And the more… cynical part of her, that better absorbed Elijah's teachings, wondered how many of them would return the kindness. The Brotherhood was still the NCR's enemy at large, or so she heard.
As Veronica usually did with these thoughts, she kept them aside to fulfill her current objective; this meant seeing Hsu. And to see Hsu, she had to follow Max. The scribe kept her flamethrower handy and proceeded to follow her friend along. She kept track of her stance while it went on. Max's hair, usually tucked into a neat bob, was a tad dirtier and more cluttered upon closer inspection. Much, much more worriedly, she'd sometimes lean unto something while walking. However, she awkwardly tried to make the motion seems "natural" by patting the seat or wall afterward like she was randomly checking out their condition while walking. Veronica pondered on the sort of activities Max could've done before encountering the scribe. Had she trained up recently? Walking alone seemed strenuous in her current condition. If they weren't relatively left alone by the crowd of McCarran, then Veronica would've certainly asked or ordered Max to sit down and rest. At the same time, she'd go on to find Hsu herself.
If anything… ah, screw it. "Max, you should sit down. I can ask around for Hsu's office," Veronica warned, putting her hand on Max's right shoulder. The private tensed in surprise. "… I don't know what kind of work-out you've been doing these past hours, but it shouldn't strain you that much! Huh, if you want to, I could help you along to the infirmary? You'd need that."
Max attempted to move Veronica's hand away from her shoulder. With a soft push at first, then a stronger one when she failed to move her hand. For her part, the scribe let go after realizing that squeezing harder to keep her grasp would only hurt her. "I'm fine. I just did a full lap across the base. Hrm… it keeps me active," the soldier did her best not to wince at the pain while talking. But that endeavor was quite tricky when it felt like two hands were prying her stomach apart so that another pair of hands could throw some burning coals in it. Since yesterday, it had faded over time, but it had flared up ever since her run across the base. However, she wasn't distraught: it'd fade, eventually, and informing the others of it would cause Max to be sent back to a bed, which would only atrophy her skills. The more pain, the more strength to her. She was even slightly proud at being noticed only by Veronica, of all people. It meant that she was doing a good job holding it all back. Would Emma have let those wounds stop her? Of course not! She'd even have punched that rebellious stomach to tell it to quit being such a pussy! "Max? Yoohoo, Earth to Max!"
"I'm fine," it would not deter Veronica, and Max knew it, so she switched gears by looking elsewhere. "I'll get to sit down and… not do anything while you talk to Colonel Hsu, and, hrm, we're very close to reaching him right now!" Veronica nodded slowly, unconvinced. But indeed, Hsu's offices drew closer. She could see two power-armored troopers standing in front of it, their weapons already drawn in case of a sudden attack. Slightly paranoid, yet prudent. What interested Veronica, much more so than their gatlings, was their suits of power armor. Were the rumors true? Had the NCR finally managed to build their own armors? Veronica approached curiously, and Max straightened up to finish her journey without any trouble. The heavy troopers did not appear to notice her problems.
"You'll have to put the flamethrower down, lady," commanded one of them, her voice slightly muffled by the helmet. "You don't get to meet Colonel Hsu when you're toting this. Sorry, it's how it goes in civilized areas." Veronica almost scoffed but handed the weapon over without any trouble. It allowed her to pay a closer look at their armor. A brief one, mind you, but a second or two was all she'd need to deduce the true nature of these suits. Up close, those were all T-45d models, with their joint servos stripped by the engineers of the NCR. There was no need for training this way, but the sheer weight banned all but the strongest of soldiers from wearing these or even walking around. It did make them resistant, and the weapons needed to punch through the protection were quite a bit out of reach of the standard raider or legionary. Still, their mobility would be drastically reduced next to a Paladin with an intact suit.
But it was a good attempt at it. It kept what made the armor iconic in the eyes of the Wastelander, so to speak. It's a big metal thing; it shrugs off small bullets and can carry big guns that shoot big bullets. Of course, it wouldn't compare to "genuine" power armor, one could say. The counter-point was that the NCR was doing fine without the genuine article and would only benefit from it, inferior or not.
More upsetting to Veronica was the thought that each suit of armor had to belong to a fallen Paladin. Maybe some of those were found in forgotten bunkers or corpses, of course, but it was still one dead Brotherhood member for every salvaged suit. It was… eerie. It may as well be giant trophies.
"Aw damn it! I guess I'll have to do this job with my bare hands!" smiled Veronica. The two soldiers groaned, apparently meaning to carry out some witty retort. Max thankfully nipped it in the bud by walking up to the office door and knocking on it, paying little heed to the world outside of a scant centimeter around her. Caught by another bit of pain, she leaned against the door and pretended that she was merely listening for Hsu's retort. She prayed for him not to open the door and let her fall, but luckily he seemed busy.
"Ah, come in! Come in!" Veronica approached Hsu's office but stopped when she reached Max's position.
"Sit down nearby, alright, Max? I'd like to talk to you after this." Veronica said, taking her hand off her quickly without dropping her focus on the private. Instead, she and the heavy troopers beheld Max's efforts to reach a seat in silence. The brunette had groaned in disapproval but couldn't spare the mental or physical strength to dispute the matters with the scribe. Satisfied with her approach, Veronica gave her a slight wink and a smile before leaving. Max, in return, awkwardly returned both before sitting down. The scavenger proceeded to walk into the office, half-dreading that Hsu would cheerfully ask to meet with the Courier. Instead, she found him sitting behind his desk as the door behind her closed.
"My apologies for the austere behavior of my troopers," Hsu got up and walked around the desk, holding his hand out for Veronica to shake it. The young scribe obliged and quietly pondered on her current scenario. How could a "top-secret scavenging assignment" take her around the Mojave, punching drugs-fueled maniacs with skull hats before shaking hands with an NCR officer? "I've heard of your exploits on our behalf. The Republic is deeply grateful for your assistance in dealing with the Fiends. We've lost several good troops to them, and I'm glad to see that they're almost behind us now." He let go of her hand and sat down behind his desk. Veronica opted to stay upright, almost nervously tugging at her hood to keep it up.
If Elijah and her parents could see this… scratch that, if even McNamara saw her receiving the compliments of an NCR colonel, there'd be hell to pay. Not much the former three could do anyway besides spinning in their graves. Ah.
"You're very flattering! But I wouldn't call any of this an exploit." Answered the scribe.
Hsu raised an eyebrow. "Is it not? You and your… partner have defeated Violet, and I've already had patrols reporting that Cook-Cook had been killed," right, it had been a day. "They've killed or tormented dozen of my troops and were hauled up deep in Fiend territory. Reaching and killing them when it was only the two of you is noteworthy, in my opinion," The officer briefly shifted in his seat. "I'll cut to the chase. Would you agree to go through Fiend territory one more time? You'll be well compensated for the effort, I can promise you."
"Well, as far as tourists spots go, it's not the nicest place," Veronica thought of the gutted ruins, the countless corpses in varying states of decay, impaled on crosses or left on a pile of debris… She could take in a lot, but that particular part of Outer Vegas more than tested one's faith in humanity. "But I can go to Vault 3, yes." As he said, he may as well cut to the chase.
Hsu relaxed very slightly but kept his body language and face firm. "Excellent. As you know, Vault 3 is is the Fiends' stronghold, and their leader rules from its depths. The smarter Fiends…" he did a gesture with his fingers, putting air quotes around "smarter" just in case. "Are found there since those outside are too wild and violent even by their standards. Killing them and Motor-Runner will end the Fiends as an organized faction: Only the stragglers and truly deranged Fiends will be left behind and, lacking the skills to lead or organize, they'll be easily picked apart by our troops or infighting,"
The Colonel pressed down on the table with his index as if insisting on his point. "We have the Fiends reeling for now. The deaths of their leaders have thrown them into chaos. We need to strike fast and firm while they're weakened and prevent the emergence of a newer bunch."
"And that's where we come in!" Veronica spread her arms and pretended that an audience was cheering her on right now. "But with all due respect, why ask us to do it? You've got orders…."
"Yes, the General would like to end the Fiends himself. I believe it to be.."
Veronica tilted her head. "Stupid?"
Hsu looked away and pulled a face. "… Inadequate, perhaps. We have had information leaks in the past and fear that Oliver's plan could be leaked to Vault 3. They'd be able to prepare ahead for a fight. While I do not doubt Oliver's tactical competency, we'll be at a disadvantage if we engage Vault 3 carelessly. As the Brotherhood War demonstrated..." Veronica wiped her upper lips with her hand, hiding her brief reaction to it, and settled down. "Bunkers and underground strongholds are difficult to seize. We would triumph, but plenty of brave men and women would die needlessly."
"But the two of us won't, heh?" Elijah's apprentice folded her arms, smiling teasingly. He very briefly smirked before going back to professionalism in a blink.
"You're free to refuse. No one would be blaming you. But you've demonstrated great competency at fighting multiple Fiends, and the mole will have no idea of your arrival to the Vault, so they will not be prepared. If you kill Motor Runner, we'll end the threat of the Fiends for good. And I'll supply you with help if you need it. Be it some Rangers or…."
Aouch, better not get those guys close to the Courier! "It's fine!" Veronica held her hands up. "We'll manage on our own. The Fiends are a dreadful bunch, so I don't mind getting to knock off a few more of their heads." Inwardly, Veronica wondered how weakened the mighty NCR had to rely on mercs to defeat some of its threats. Hsu, at least, clearly seemed to dislike the idea of relying on strangers… but not out of pride. He simply knew that asking her, a stranger, to take up the Republic's fight and infiltrate a Vault full of killers hooked up on various violent drugs wasn't the noblest of ideas. At the very least, she could respect his decision to end their threat as quickly as possible. And their pedigree made them qualified to storm such a stronghold.
"I will take my responsibilities should there be complaints, somehow, over the Fiends's defeat," Hsu smiled slightly at Veronica's agreement yet remained professional about it... "I cannot guarantee that the truth of the matter will not be altered by the newspapers or radios. Support for the Mojave campaign is meeting hurdles back home, and the General is hoping that results will shift public opinion for the better."
Veronica shrugged. She'd never seen herself as a superstar. "If a newspaper ever told me that two mercs managed to single-handedly kill off the Fiends, I would probably think of it as bad reporting! What I'd need out of this is… caps?" Veronica smiled awkwardly.
"You'll make yourself a lot of friends killing Motor Runner. I'll happily give you whatever caps you'll need… on a military budget, of course." Hsu marked a slight pause. "You could even board the monorail if you wish to go to the Strip. I'll even admit that taking down Cook-Cook and Violet is enough for you to have a seat with your name on it."
"That's pretty nice of you, but there's a lot of things I could do with caps! And Vegas doesn't like beggars," truth be told, she'd probably waste away all of the caps on random games or a pretty dress. But it wouldn't be much wasting, right? And 2000 caps would probably be more than needed to get one of those in the Strip. "… Also, my partner isn't someone I'd want to leave alone. He's got a very peculiar mindset, see?" Veronica pointed at her head, and Hsu nodded in quiet understanding.
"Yes. Unfortunately, high-command see some potential in collaboration with the Courier." Hsu frowned. "And while I'll admit that the man had indeed done great service to the Republic, I happen to believe that his good deeds for our sake are coincidental, at best, and that he may eventually decide to turn against us on a mere whim. Would you concur with me?"
Veronica left out a little laugh and shook her head. "You're perfectly accurate in being suspicious. Trying to use him as an agent for the cause of the Republic is…
Hsu tilted his head to the left slightly. "Stupid?"
"Inadequate." Veronica coughed into her right fist. "Our interests are the same for now, but as someone who saw him up close, he's not too big on cuddles and hugs. You oughta just leave him alone somewhere full of enemies and let him do his thing."
"Regrettable… There is another aspect to this mission, you see," Ah, of course, there was. Had to spicy up the part where a punchy scribe and a psychopath rampage in the rotten overdosed heart of Raiderland, heh? "The Fiends hold civilians hostages. They kidnap them in the middle of the day, from caravans or their own homes. It'd be ideal if you could save them and contact Ranger Anders, who went missing after being sent to investigate the matter. For each life saved, you will…."
Veronica raised her hand before he could carry on with a nervous laugh. "Oh, don't worry! I'm not that kind of gal! I'm not going to be saving civilians for the pay!" It did mean more work in restraining that man. It was easy to set him loose in a hellhole full of enemies, but in a setting with hostages? Aouch… He'd tear right through them to get to his target. "I'll do as I can to save them, and Anders. Never expected I'd get to save a Ranger, after all the epic stories I heard of 'em."
"Yes, I underestimated the Fiends, it seemed." The military man sighed. "… Or they knew he was coming. But the fault lies in me, I've misjudged, and someone else is paying the price for me."
What was that about a mole? Was he dropping hints as subtly as he could to get Veronica to investigate or something? It'd be tempting to play detective on an extensive facility like this. Still, the scribe had her priorities and wasn't sure she could leave the Courier alone in the ruins all by himself without him wandering off somewhere civilized.
"I'll do what I can for your problems. There are some aspects to the NCR I don't find too pleasant… but you guys won't have me lashed to a cross or enslaved, so it'd be beneficial if you could beat the Legion," Veronica began getting up from her seat. "As for the mole, I'll see what I can do. I'm… good at fixing things, really. And punching people too! But detective work won't do. Err, I could always kindly ask Motor-Runner!"
"I do not think he'll be delightful to talk with," once again, only the slightest hint of a smile. "I've been told to hold back on direct action and pacify the area in front of the camp, but I could have some troops clear your way to the Vault."
"It's alright; we've approached it before," Veronica ever so briefly pondered. "… Say, what happened to Driver Nephi? I've met Max."
Hsu faltered very slightly. "Lt. Deacon presented a plan of action on how to intercept Fiends leadership. Given his past credentials and defeat of the centurion Silus…." Ah, another issue to deal with. Boyd had complained about interrogating him while sticking to the NCR laws regarding POWs. The Oliver in Hsu prevented him from asking Veronica to help, as it was, and he didn't want to implicate her any further when she'd already done so much for their cause. "He handpicked his own soldiers and allowed them to do some handpicking of their own to bolster the ranks. Private First Class Doleetle has informed us of potential leaks from the base. This… narrowed down the list of suspects, however."
"I don't think Max's doing too well," had she and the Courier went for Nephi instead of Cook-Cook… Veronica winced slightly, discarding the thoughts of the mole so far. "You should send her somewhere nice where she can get some help."
"I thought of sending her to Dr. Usanagi, indeed," Hsu replied. "The Followers of the Apocalypse and the Republic are having difficulties collaborating at the moment, but they are the best qualified to handle her current issues," countless soldiers would benefit from receiving treatment. Still, the consultations would often leave them busy and too distracted to properly serve, or so said the upper brass above even him. Max was somewhat unique in her treatment compared to the others, but that didn't make Hsu happier. She'd be treated, but a few days wouldn't be enough, and he wasn't so sure that the campaign wouldn't add some more traumas to the list.
"She's tearing herself in two," Veronica gestured outside, "And I'm barely metaphorical. I'll drop her at Usanagi's clinic if you want. I've got a car. May as well use it."
"There's lessened Fiend activity thanks to your efforts; it should be easier to reach the clinic. I'll send a patrol from Freeside to pick her up on the way out," The young woman smiled and nodded before moving to leave the room. "Thank you for your efforts in helping the Republic, regardless of their stature." His eyes carried out a slightly different story than his tone did. If you try anything with the private, we'll know. And she'd get it! Altruistic acts like that are rare enough in the wastes, and Hsu perhaps feared that Veronica was looking to sacrifice Max to the Courier like the latter was a dark god.
"You're welcome, colonel!" The scribe saluted before walking out of the room, taking her flamethrower back along the way from that one rude heavy trooper. Max, who had been staring at the door for the duration of their meeting, looked up at the scribe.
"Hi," she said, sounding less strained than before. Or she was faking it better? Who knew. "What did you want to talk about?"
"There's been a brief change of plans," smiled Veronica. "I can't do too much talking right now, but I can bring you to somebody who could do all the talking! How about that?" Max opened her mouth in protest. "Hsu agreed, and I'm not letting you walk it off that easily! You need that help, Max. If it's not me, it'll be someone else."
"I've got shifts to do, huh… I can't slack it off when there's still raiders to get to, right?" Max retorted feebly.
"Girl, there's a ton of privates looking to do something here. Your shift will be covered, I assume. And if you want, you can go right back to slaying all these enraged junkies once you've got that all out of your system, pinkie promise."
"Killing them is how I'll, huh, get it out of my system." The private sighed and got up, not intending to defy her hierarchy. Up close like that, Veronica could better see the bags under her eyes, and how does one look pale in the Mojave? That Usanagi had some work to do.
"Well, talking's also fine. Don't knock it 'till you've tried it!"
…
Travelers report a sharp decline in Fiend activity in Outer Vegas after the demise of several of their leading figures.
"There's been horror tales of a dozen of these freaks popping up from behind cover to destroy caravans without even taking what's inside. My buddy Joe, and he's a good buddy, I'll tell ya, he said to me that you never go to Vegas without about six bodyguards on the vehicle. Even then, they'll be crazy enough to try something. So anyway, I was shitting my pants in fear of them. But then! I… I drive, you see, and I see five of them just standing there, and four more laying about on the ground, with weird foam coming outta their mouths. My buddy Mark, he shoots at them, and they don't move even after being shot at! I-it took a bit for them to die because my buddy Mark, he's good, but he's a lousy shooter. Real bad. I don't have too many caps to throw around like that, which is why I'm stuck caravaning to Vegas. But it's not as bad as Reno! Yeah, one day-"
"The NCR is finally doing what it should be doing," tell us another Caravaner.
Reports indicate that one of the leaders of the Fiends, Driver Nephi, has been slain in combat by a squad of NCR soldiers. A soldier who has expressed a wish to remain anonymous has spoken of the matter. "It's not surprising for them to fall apart so quickly. Violet's death alone destabilized them. Take out the rest, and the whole structure's too rotten to stand on its own."
The violence has died down in Outer Vegas, but it may have relocated to Freeside, where NCR settlers face increased hostility from the locals since the arrest of a "community pillar" Dixon. Our source tells us that the NCR will answer to violence with violence should they continue.
…
This chapter was a bit larger in my mind. We'd have returned to Freeside and Andrew. But I decided to once again take some reader advice, so Max will be meeting Kusanagi! I'm going to have to research on how soldiers with PTSD are treated for this!
What did you think of this chapter? Sorry if it's too short, I'm a tad nervous the fic may be too long though. What do you think?
Oh, and Marcus Cristensen is technically a game character! Can you find his name in it? Hint, you can find his name at a story-relevant mission!
What did you think of the chapter? Reviews are appreciated!
See ya later alligator!