Arcade sometimes wondered how all these people fared before the bombs fells. Records from before the war showed the world to be in massive turmoil, and though America looked prosperous compared to the world around it, it was still plagued by rampant radicalization, a devastating plague, violent riots everywhere, and imperialism. Few portions of the country were as idealistic as they seemed. And he even dared to say that, from his understanding of things, some portions of the country would have descended into anarchy without the bombs. But the wealthiest Americans, those with prestigious positions or even money, could live a peaceful life in parts of the countries where things were quite idyllic. And he thought Vegas had to be one of those places, with the amount of cash that flew in.
Something was tempting about a city where one could lose everything yet, by a skillful sleight of hand or a poker face, also gain riches enough to never worry about anything for the rest of their lives. Countless gamblers walked the concrete roads centuries before the current generation, imagining themselves as the definitive "winners." The ones who went against the overwhelming odds of Vegas and prevailed, unlike all the "losers." And meanwhile, that mindset was encouraged by the rich people they were making even richer, all of them accumulating more wealth in pursuit of pure hedonism or cutting-edge bunkers to survive the war.
Funny how things didn't change, right? The doctor had seen his fair share of disappointed gamblers in his days at Freeside, most having not enough caps left for the journey home. And each had the exact same story. A few justified themselves through tales of desolate farms and empty sites, and Arcade's heart went to them, but Greed was what drove these people to abandon their safe homes to give away money to Mister House and his goons. Greed is why Kimball was fine letting his citizens walk into what was an active warzone even before a mailman arrived to blow everything to hell. And Greed is why he didn't see too many people leaving the Mojave while they were ahead. If Vegas was dead, surely they could get rich off other means after all, right?
Before or after the war, Arcade had come to a shocking conclusion: the world had given up on doing good and had decided to focus on doing what's purely, cynically profitable. And that way had already doomed America once when the flames of annihilation swept across its surface to erase its great towns. It had already doomed America twice, as the Oil Rig cracked ablaze, reduced to radioactive winds by the same type of bomb that doomed the world. And it may doom America a third time, should the imperialistic ways of the NCR force it to explode, having finally run out of the considerable resources it had in its mad decision to imitate the very perpetrators of the war. But he got the desire to form a nation in post-apocalyptic California. He got that people wanted shelter, food, water, and protection. And he could tolerate the NCR's respect for democracy and equal rights.
But they were rushing over, trying to be like that warning sign around them. Absolutely every ruined town, every smoking crater, every two-centuries-old corpse, and every decrepit military base or scientific outpost was a warning sign to the future generations. The NCR expanded mindlessly when they could do much more and build a true nation. Repair or put up roads, cultivate fields, integrate towns and adequately protect them, work together to perhaps even undo the madness of their ancients! The NCR could very well emerge to be a better country than its predecessor, even if it isn't as mighty and overlooking, and yet continue to be ready to defend itself from dangers. But yet, people everywhere only sought to become the next Tandi. And they thought to do it by extending borders and conquering, and conquering, and conquering because everything inside the borders would magically go along with it. That drive to crush, kill and push the borders endlessly was no different from the way of the Legion, scandalous as the idea sounded to Kimball and others.
The past repeats itself endlessly, like a loop. Centuries go by, and missiles rain over the world like nuclear hellfire, but Vegas continue to lure hapless players to their doom. Nations continue to brutally extend, trampling all over those weaker than themselves and ignoring the problems of their own citizens. Wars are still waged. Why? Why should that happen? Why should Arcade sit there and watch as change comes not by the action of the people but by the cruel whims of one individual, tearing down everything in sight? Vegas was gone as a source of tourist attraction, but he didn't want it to be this way through mass murder and fires.
Perhaps this is why he wanted to save Max from herself. The young woman was tormented, and the doctor felt that convincing her of this could be a good change, in a way. He'd stop watching and finally contribute to something good, convincing his inner voice that there was a chance for things to improve instead of worsening. But even then, with the war going around her and what he heard about her from the base, he knew her chances at recovery were slim. Not as long as she was around anything, for anything could cause her to snap further.
Might as well try to put a band-aid over a fresh bullet wound.
Arcade sighed and leaned back into his chair, passing his hand over his forehead. He wondered if his dad had intended him to be stuck like this, worrying about the fate of the NCR, even that of a common NCR "grunt," would he think of… no, he remembered what had been told of him. Mark Gannon was a good man. Aware of the world around him, Arcade, at most his most pessimistic, felt like being "good" mattered little when one was caught in the cogs of the Enclave, but he hoped –he knew- that his father somewhere could see him being so earnest in helping a life, and that there'd be approval. Or maybe that was just him not being so dissimilar to Max. Chasing after an absent's approval, yearning for what scant memories he still had of him yet only knowing him through the descriptions that those who knew him would make.
As he watched Max enter the room, Arcade felt a little kinship. Just enough that he felt that much more invested in helping her out. "Well, take a seat," he said. Max looked down at his hand and did as asked, sitting down and crossing her legs. Roy, in the meantime, walked over to the door, prompting Arcade to glance his way. "Where are you going?" he asked, somewhat naively, as he sat down on a much nicer bed than anything he'd slept on for a week or so. "If you want to explore the town, I recommend losing the gun. I doubt raiders will ambush you down the stairs or in town."
"He's not going in town," Max said, poorly concealing a sly smirk. "We're here to help Forlorn Hope coordinate with the other NCR forces in the area, remember? So because I'm unfortunately busy, that task is going to fall on Roy," Max looked his way and kissed the air. "So I think the gun is wise to have around."
Roy smiled, kissing back at Max but a bit more awkwardly. "I mean, we are soldiers, Arcade! We've got things to do here!" he laughed a little, once again awkwardly, and stopped a little, looking at Max. She tilted her head, and he advanced. "Huh… So I was given this little paper to give to the guys at Charlie, then I'll go to the Rangers near Nelson and head home. We don't have all day, right? We'll be home by tomorrow, and…" he glanced at the room, the proper beds, the open windows, and the brief relief from the searing sun. "… Aw, man." He slipped in his script.
"That's a lot of distance. You're going to need to get to… Station Charlie, get back to Novac and go all the way to an NCR base in Nelson; that's a lot of work to do at…" Arcade glanced at Max, who looked at the wall next to him in casual disinterest. Was she up to something and trying to make him feel guilty for forcing Roy to pull double duty? Perhaps he was unjustly paranoid, but he'd noticed the smug smiles and disinterest in the conversation. And he felt a bit hurt, realizing that this bout of paranoia may be actually not so outlandish. Or he may be reeling from the realization that Max was actively hampering an attempt at helping her; who knew? "Max, we won't take all day. If you need him to do something, he could always talk to the snipers," Max's smug air changed, and she uncrossed her leg, sitting up in her old chair. "He'll tell them that the NCR will take them on a jolly adventure kicking off the Legion from a town they've conquered so they can better conquer it bac."
"No, I'll take care of the snipers!" Max dismissed, looking at Roy as if looking for collaboration. "It's what I came here to do. Only I have the skills to relate to them, and the…" she glanced at Roy. "I mean, I've got a silver tongue, too. Like… it's not anything against you, Roy, but I think-" she put a hand on her chest, a practiced gesture. "That this is right up my alley. We need that help, besides. We can't… risk something happening. A word being dropped, a.. a little mistake can become big if you let it go along for too long, you know?" Roy said nothing but quietly conceded, seemingly hurt that Max didn't think him good enough to negotiate. "Come on, Arcade, we can do it tonight… I mean, psychologizing." The young man instantly looked up and laughed a little, to Arcade's annoyance, even if it did feel a bit forced.
He could see a point in this, it was a military "operation" before it was a trip, but it felt like she was trying to guilt Arcade into dropping things. And the worst part? It was working because he knew going out into the heat would be dangerous for Roy, even before the threat of Legionaries prowling around town. The Rangers near Nelson were perhaps too tough to assail directly, but he wasn't so sure about the roads in-between. "… You're sure that you don't want to just let Roy take care of the snipers? It's just going to be an hour or two, Max. He can… Ask someone leaving Novac to drop the message by a convoy or civilian. Surely their patriotic fervor," he rolled his eyes, "will get them to drop everything to inform camp Charlie to… shoot a flare into the sky or something to that effect."
"No!" Max said, startling Roy and Arcade alike as she rose to her feet. "You're not taking this away from me! I know how to get these people on the team, alright?! It's-"she took a heavy breath and slowly exhaled, putting her hands up but pointedly not sitting down again. Afterward, she opened her eyes. "I just want to do something that matters, Arcade. Is it that hard? Anyone could give out codes or pieces of paper, but convincing these guys? It's what only I can do. I'm not just a glorified courier, I'm… me," again with the hand on her chest, "I'm Maxine C. Doleetle, a rising legend of the NCR. Who else could bring back two legends into the fold?"
Of course, she'd care. It was something only she could do in her mind; a much more critical task than any other had to be handled by her and not Roy, let alone the "traitor" Arcade and the zombie Maanan. Why did Arcade want to take that away from her? Maybe there was a problem, but that could be fixed later, right? Oh, she had to use that. "And… We can do it after Forlorn Hope is victorious.T… There, a promise!" Max held her hand out. "When Nelson is ours, I'll do the therapy, alright? We'll-" a shot went off, interrupting everybody in the room. Max and Roy alike turned to the door, the former grabbing her rifle as the two soldiers exited the room, ready to slay whatever raider band had decided to take Novac hostage. They thankfully didn't notice Arcade's gesture, putting a hand down the pocket of his coat, reaching for his plasma gun –it had a more academic name, but Arcade didn't care for specifics-. He froze and took it out of his pocket, looking around and carefully patting the spot down, making up future excuses about checking for stimpaks or… or… bah; he wasn't made for lying.
Elsewhere, Max and Roy hurried past a curious crowd of on-lookers and tourists, seeing that the gunshot came from the dinosaur tower above, where one of the snipers was apparently located. Yes, she remembered seeing that: the two lived in the motel, and one would guard the spot at night or during the day. Had something happened? None of the Novacs settlers seemed to be particularly confused over the matter, and she could see Jeannie outside, leading the aforementioned small crowd outside. "Now, as we know, the neighbors next door are rather poor ones to have. So we've got some of the best snipers around the Mojave to take care of that," she pointed to the giant dinosaur, lifting her shriveled arms as best as she could. "I'll tell you, these Legionaries would be knocking at our door if not for these guys. And they wouldn't exactly be selling cookies or… miniature dinky the T-Rex souvenirs if ya get me!" she winked to the audience, noticing Max and Roy amongst them. "But you can get the latter for the lowest price of one capsule at our shop directly within the big lizard statue! And for y'all gun nuts or wasteland walkers, there's a lot of other stuff you might enjoy, at a discount price too!"
Augustus, or "Jessie" as the profligate customs wished he be called, scoffed at the cues the woman was dropping. The Legion was famous for its expert spies; how could she so casually announce their presence and location? Even if it was a little obvious, he anticipated her to at least make it… perhaps not so transparent? Ah, perhaps it was simply too obvious. The Legion was well-aware of the position of the Snipers. But it wasn't until the "removal" of camp Charlie, and the recent massive influx of NCR tourists, that they could so easily sneak inside. The profligates were described as mighty warriors, able to seize the upper hand even at their ostensibly weakest range, and thus Dead Sea and Gabban had planned for quantity to make up for quality.
Were it for Augustus, he would have done the task alone! But perhaps it was nice to have his surroundings settled so quickly. He looked back at the town's main street, between the motel and the rest of the dilapidated homes. Many caravans were there, with gamblers or settlers crammed by the dozens. An easy target for the Legionary, for the sight of the burning refugees, would surely scar the NCR, but his targets were elsewhere at the moment… or were they?
He could see Doleetle and her whimpering friend by the crowd, looking out at the spot where his brothers had succumbed to the snipers. A calculated decision by Dead Sea. What was less than a dozen soldiers to the greater numbers within Nelson? Better not to let the snipers become wary of the absence of enemies down the bridge. Augustus had different ideas, but that'd wait for his triumph to arrive. "Hey there!" he greeted Doleetle, seeing her turn a wary eye to him. "Creepy, how close those Legion goons are to the town, huh? I'm glad you guys are around to help us out."
"No, we can't tell you; it's secret!" the man said, placing a finger over his lips. "But we are looking to help the town. We're just-"
"Roy!" Max complained, earning herself a quizzical stare from Augustus. How could she talk to a physical superior like that, he thought? Ah, if nothing else, he had a fondness for her fire. "We're here to do something about that, yes, but as far as I'm concerned, you're not classified for the documents. Maybe you should sign up?" she jerked a thumb over her back, smirking smugly. "Go to Forlorn Hope; they're looking for reinforcements."
"Forlorn Hope?" he smiled, restraining it so as not to show too many teeth. "I think I've contributed to the NCR war machine quite enough, wouldn't you say? I still remember that plasma rifle you got me," Max, who had already begun to look away, now glanced his way, confused. "Do you remember that night? I gave you a handsome amount of caps. I trust you've still got them?"
"… Holy shit, you're the merchant," Max looked up to him, now interested. Her eyes seemed freed from a great cloud, and he smiled her way. "Yeah, what did you make of that gun?"
"I sold it to the Van Graffs myself and made easy money. I'm not really a sharpshooter," he laughed. "I guess we both got off easy. And… hey, where did you even find it? I'm a bit curious. Energy weapons are rare this side of civilization," he folded his arms over his chest, spotting the doctor. He took pride in handing out drugs and injections to his weak patients, depriving them of growth. "So, if you have a stash…."
"I got it off a deader zombie," Max said, prompting Augustus to freeze with a slightly disgusted look. He immediately corrected himself with a strained smile, but she didn't notice, her eyes locked to the ground as she remembered sweet memories of her past. "We got off Nipton. Nipton before it got leveled to the ground, I mean. What a shitpit of a city," he found himself agreeing, nodding up and down without meaning. He hesitated, then saw that no one else was paying attention to the conversation: the tourists were leaving for the dinosaur, slowing down the doctor, and the "man" was off looking at the caravans. "I found a dead ghoul with the weapon. It was dark. Probably got ambushed; no idea how. Despite the smell and… well," she huffed. "How easily it could have been a feral one; I approached to pluck the weapon off it. I would have buried it if I could, but we had a road to follow. There's… probably more dead ghouls. It had a uniform. Like a robe of a sort."
"Now that you said it, I saw a few dead ghouls with those robes coming over. But no weapons; I guess someone took them away? I wouldn't want to pluck something off a corpse that… already was a corpse to start with, see?"
Max laughed earnestly. Arcade would have been indignant at the word "zombie," but the man wasn't, and she could feel just a bit freer. "I'm sorry for handing it over to you like that. But since there was something involving a pack of… religious ghouls," she laughed again, finding the idea ridiculous. "up ahead, maybe you can try to find out if somebody got weapons off the bodies?"
"You're right; I'll try. I'll probably get some soap along the way, too!" more laughter her way. "Ah, I guess you don't like ghouls?"
"Yeah, they're so rude," Max replied bluntly, looking down at her hands and clapping them together. "Like, come on, how old are most of these? Most of the pre-war ones probably got feral now," he nodded, agreeing. "So you have these liars acting like they knew what the old world looked, getting into the theaters, walking down the streets, but… they still smell, you know?" she motioned to her nose. "And they're so mean again, so it's disagreeable to be around them, but it gets even worse talking to them."
"I guess that there's something about looking the way you act, heh?" the doctor was getting too close, but Augustus was enjoying himself. Dolettle was as it seemed: a spunky young woman convinced that she could get through the entire ordeal ahead of her with her words, harsh or sly, and her gun. Ah, how he was looking forward to seeing that fire die in her eyes! And with any luck, she'd be his prize for a job well-done, where he feared that any of these dumb brutes at Nelson might accidentally kill her. "Alright then, I'll be shopping then. Might do me a favor when I head out back home," he saw Doleetle's eyebrows silently raise up in interest. "The Van Graffs got pretty much annihilated; I can't really give these guns out to anyone now, can I? And with things being what they are, I've got an urge to go back to Shady Sands and sell off some of these guns to the army here. Support the war effort again and all."
"Your country thanks you!" Max giggled. He nodded and headed off north of the town. In truth, he knew that the Legion had dealt with the Van Graffs for energy weapons. He was almost assigned to the case until New Vegas was burned down along with the crime family. As much as his brothers hated these weapons, it was still helpful to have them available, be it to use them or, much more likely, simply keep them out of reach. And though he despised these cowardly riflemen for their over-reliance on their weapons and respected the Legion's focus on what mattered (strength of arms), he thought it to be a dumb mistake, for the fight would only grow worse, and he feared that the NCR would gain mastery over these unsightly robots left over the Strip.
But if he could not use these weapons directly, he could always find the means to use them.
Meanwhile, Max watched the merchant go, forgetting to ask his name. She smiled slightly yet did not dwell on it, the important thing being her objectives. "So, we're not sending Roy over there," she pointed the way of the sniper's shot. "I'll be going instead. Roy? You'll stick to going the other way; it'll be safer for you."
"I'm glad to see that you're not going to be sending Roy to his literal death," Arcade announced, somewhat awkwardly putting his glasses back in place. "But I guess that means we're going over there, right?"
"We?" Max questioned before looking down at the sand. "… Sure, yeah, sure." She felt no point in arguing now. Arcade would not just sit back at the motel, and the arguing was getting tedious. Plus, she had a good mood now, so why spoil it? "We just have to find somebody who'd be willing to get there, to begin with, and… huh…" it'd be a short list. Somebody got shot down there, and there were no guarantees of a sniper rescuing them if the Legionaries were to ambush them at a different spot or take good cover. But she knew what got people moving when nothing else could. "I'll give good money," the brunette almost answered. "Don't worry about convincing people. I'll leave it up to me."
Arcade questioned the wisdom of contradicting Max, but he nonetheless decided to go ahead, though he anticipated another unexpected shouting match. "Max, you could barely pay 100 caps for a room at the motel", the brunette stopped and glanced back at him in open annoyance. "I think that even if we both pooled together a sum, we'd barely be able to get something to eat for one of us." The young woman heard him out, then smiled and pulled out Maria. It took all of Arcade's composure not to back off in surprise, and he folded his arms over his chest instead.
"I hear you! I'll just sell it," she took the gun and weighed it, inspecting it. "It's a gold-plated gun, I think. I can sell it for more than enough bucks to buy out that stupid motel and tear it down, then we'll use the money to get what we want, right?" Arcade was not a gun enthusiast, being that he didn't understand how people even could be entranced with guns, to begin with, but he had to admit that it was a… noticeable firearm. Fittingly garish for Vegas before its fall, he imagined. The owner he could probably guess, though he wondered why Max would have taken it from him. "Besides, there's always a factor of why everything went to hell in Vegas. This thing's part of history, right?"
"You sound like an arms dealer," Arcade huffed. "But I guess it's… fair to sell the thing away if it grants us some much-needed caps. I know it's the best use we can make of it," Max rolled her eyes, and the blond felt the tiniest bit offended. "I'm a doctor, Max. I'm not really enthused with guns. I spend most of my time seeing what they do to people."
"God, is there something you approve of, Arcade?" Max growled, prompting the doctor to realize he had again stumbled over a line. "Do you want us to do like them and bash each other over with a stick? Guns could be all that stands between you and a ditch. It's how it is, and how it has been for the past two hundred years," she looked down to put the gun away, and Arcade rolled his eyes in that precise amount of time. "You're one of those guys that always complain, always act like he's smarter than everyone, always has to say something, but he doesn't know shit in the end," her tone became more and more vicious as she attempted to correctly put the gun in its holster. "It'd be funny to see your idea of a proper society one day, but I bet you don't have one, do you?"
"Careful with all the self-projecting, you might end up tossing yourself all the way to the other side of the Dam." Max looked at him with a withering glare as soon as he said that, slowly tilting her head to the side. Her lips moved, and a hissing sound escaped from it, but it took her several attempts before she managed to put up a proper reply, stung as she was.
"What the fuck did you just say to me?" He was sure and certain the gun would have been raised his way if she hadn't just put the weapon aside. He could see her cheeks begin to glow beet-red in embarrassment. Or simply all-consuming anger. "Care to share what you just fucking said to me?" She eventually repeated, balling her left hand into a fist in an unsubtle manner.
Arcade contemplated his answer wisely, being that a pair of glasses was surprisingly hard to find in the Mojave, and he wasn't so sure he even had the caps to afford one by that point. But he knew that Max would punch him no matter what he said. And her anger might have been infectious in a way because he didn't feel like apologizing. "You being deaf would actually explain a shocking lot." Max glanced at Arcade in surprise, like she'd expected him to back off, and he readied himself for a punch. But before Max could attempt to throw it, she was surprised to see Roy return to her sight after he'd vanished for a few minutes, stepping by her side and wrapping his arm around her.
"Hey!" he said, smiling as if unaware of the altercation. His presence caused Max's tunnel vision to slip, and she noticed people all around them paying close attention to their altercation, even with no one being particularly eager to get between them. Not that the dreadful fight between a young woman and an innocent doctor would cause the brave inhabitants of Novac to fear for their lives: they looked simply amused by it. At the very least, no one from the "prospecting queue" going to the REPCONN site seemed to be around to see her humiliate herself again. "I just saw a very neat thing in the motel garden; you should come and see it with me!"
Max said nothing, busy as she was trying to squeeze free. "… Right," Arcade eventually piped in after several seconds of silence. "I'll go see what it is. But probably not with the way you guys will take it. Erm… see you!" Arcade walked backward, then turned around, heading towards the motel again. He stopped, wanting to correct Roy, then decided to take a deep breath in his room instead. That he nearly came to blow with his own patient was concerning to him, and he wasn't in a mood to see what was in store for them, even if he could appreciate Roy lending a hand. For now, though, his priority was heading back home, his fading adrenaline making him realize what he'd said, no matter how justified one could see him for speaking to Max like that.
That same thought echoed in the back of Max's skull as she watched Arcade leave, whispers of regrets inviting her to run back to the scientist and apologize. But louder voices and angrier ones also told her that she was right to act like this. She couldn't let a spineless doctor talk to a soldier of the Republic in such a way when she'd shed more blood and, by all accounts, did more for civilization as a whole than some pampered douchebag born in the wealthier parts of the Boneyard, ever had. But then, how could she think this of Arcade, a man who had walked across miles and miles of irradiated desert just for her sake? And then the exact argument happened in a loop, but she shoved it aside.
Roy eventually let go, and the two of them began to walk towards the lot, the young man tossing worried glances her way. "Spunky," complimented a disheveled man, drinking from a bottle carefully kept together by whatever tape he could find. "You get into fights with doctors often in the NCR?"
Max stopped, her eyes wide and her nostrils flaring in anger. She turned to the man and pointed his way, immediately looking for an insult to throw at him and succeeding. "You dirty fucking rat! How about you build yourselves actual houses before you go admonishing me, you fat-"Roy again had to wrestle her away, almost dragging her by the arms hoping the Novac inhabitant would not seek revenge. They laughed instead, which only further angered Max. "Let me go! I won't take long punching them!"
"No!" Roy said, wheeling her around to face him. "No, we won't, because you have to listen to me!" he looked around, seeing the lot to be quite empty with the absence of a black man, wearing ordinary tattered clothing and the hat typical of most NCR rangers, which did get Max's attention. He was sitting on a wheelchair, which looked refurbished correctly to be safe to sit on, unlike everything else in the Wasteland. The wheels were slightly creaky, but they weren't falling apart. "I spoke to this guy, Ranger Andy. He noticed us walking around as NCR soldiers and told me-" he looked around one last time, approaching Andy. Max tilted her head to the side in annoyance.
"He told you where to find a stash of Jet? You're being flighty," she hissed. "We've got a job to do; the menial bullshit can wait."
"Station Charlie is gone," Roy said, shutting up Max as she registered the information. "The Legion got to them. A settler went down, checked, and came back to inform Novac," Max couldn't believe it, but she'd seen enough death and fury to find the idea plausible. She figured her monthly good luck had run out, and now was the time to swing back. "I guess the word hadn't got out yet; it's… recent, I think. They sent those soldiers less than a week ago."
"Fuck," Max deadpanned, her face blank. She took some steps back as a prelude to sitting on the ground and placed her knees against her chest and her hands on the side of her head, trying to drown out the ringing in her ears. What if the same thing had happened to the ranger camp they were meant to visit? What would happen then? Would they stumble into a trap and get executed bringing the message? No, surely they'd know… but how? Who would risk adventuring into the area brimming with all these fucking raiders to find out that the NCR soldiers had been slaughtered? Fuck. What a way to put it. "The settler could have been lying, right?"
"I know these people well. I can trust whatever they have to say," Andy retorted, Roy, seeming concerned. "But I've spoken to the snipers. There's been no Legion activity or gunfire where I supposed you'll be going. You'll have to be careful; Legion's got more reach than previously thought. Is that really just you two on the case?"
"You could help-oh" Roy bit his lips, seeing Andy in his wheelchair. "… A-anyway, Max, I'll be going with you and Arcade to that place then. We can't be too prudent, right?"
Max said nothing; the ringing sound had nearly overshadowed anything they had to say. In these moments, she remembered how vulnerable she was: it was her and Roy against a hostile Wasteland out there. "Arcade?" she whispered, looking up to Roy.
"Well… yeah, Arcade! You two should definitely make it up before we leave," he stood to a knee, placing himself on Max's level. "I'm not a smart guy, and I don't have his medical… papers documents or your shooting skills, but I like to say I'm pretty good at observing stuff. Max," he attempted to place a hand down on hers, and she let him do so, letting his fingers join with hers. "I understand why you're angry. This place it's so miserable. N-not Novac!" he turned to Andy, who simply nodded. "But the Mojave. It's bitter, cynical, there are loads of people dying here every day and- hell, there'll be dozens of deader folks in it by the time I'm done speaking -it's so… cold and mean. I get why it'd make you angry. I… I'm not going to tell you it's wrong to be angry, right?"
Max waited for him to finish, though the ringing slowly ceased. "But you can't turn that anger to the wrong people, right? Manaan, he's a dick, but he did nothing to you, yeah? And you had some unfortunate comments about ghouls and… nevermind, nevermind. Arcade, too. He's just trying to help you. And I feel you will hurt yourself and him alike if you decide to push him away." The brunette, again, said nothing and looked down on the ground, metaphorically folding her arms and pouting.
"We're a small enough party; let's not pick fights with people or ourselves. Alright? You're supposed to get the snipers back on our side, right? How are you gonna do that if you can't keep the people, we already have on our side?" Max looked up, stung in her pride, and got up with a low grumble. "I'm not telling you to not be angry. It's good, but be angry at the right people, alright? Go make it up with Arcade, he's a doctor, and I'm sure there are benefits to one being around."
"Everybody I knew took advantage of me, Roy," Max retorted, fixing her collar. "What if I don't want to make it up? He wants to neuter me and make me weak and pliable again. Everybody likes Max Doleetle because she's weak; they don't like me because I'm strong, and I don't let other people walk all over me."
"Explain it to Arcade, then," Roy said, slightly sounding like he was losing his patience but holding back to avoid inciting Max's wrath. "I like you as you are. You're strong, get into the thick of things, and are motivated. But don't you think that you're getting angry at the wrong people? And…" he glanced at the ground as well. "… I just want to find happy people, for once. Please try to make it up with Arcade before you both regret going your separate ways. Because you're a… you're a nice person, Max. I know that it hurts you to hurt him and vice-versa. Talk to him, pretty please? For me?" he smiled, attempting to goad her with humor. She seemed surprised, staring at him wide-eyed and briefly making him fear that a Legion Assassin had somehow sneaked up on him.
Silence answered him again before Max walked over and glanced in silence, leaning into his ear. His eyes widened slightly, and she walked back, putting a finger over her mouth and walking to the motel. "I'll be apologizing to Arcade. For you," she extended her arms to the sides. "Just for you."
Roy smiled back at her, watching her leave for the motel. As she ascended the stairs, he turned to Andy. "Want me to wheel you back home, sir?"
"Yes, but I'd have some dinosaurs to buy first."
…
Rumors abound that a group of Freeside citizens have started a cult for the Courier 6, following our King's gallant destruction of New Vegas and death of that stinky poo Mister House. Figures with their heads wrapped in helmets or burlap bags were seen prowling the ruins of the… ruins, snatching people to bring them down to their dark lairs to devour. We, at Radio Newer Vegas, encourage such a religion! The King is to be worshipped this way, I can tell you he'd like it!
Just remember: stoking the smoke and the flames is how you'll help him find a way back!
…
Another brief chapter. But I'm happy, I'm feeling pretty motivated and setting things up that will be quite important for latter, like Arcade and Max's relationship! Or her and Roy. Do you think she's using him or being genuine? I'm curious to see what she's coming off as.
See you next week people! And thanks for any comment you might drop, I love them!