New Vegas was tempting. The miraculous place was certainly eye-catching and beamed brightly, forever showing off why people would be drawn to it. Civilization, safety, easy living, nice clothes. The protection is probably the biggest reason for why people stay. Walls of metal outside, guards of metal inside. I'm positive travelers stop there to check it out and decide to stay to leave their hard lives on the road. Plus, easy access to food, shelter, and relaxation.
And those people who love drinking, smoking, gambling, and fucking, whether they've always been that way or changed into the lifestyle of glamour, maybe aren't that bad. Who are we to judge? They could be acting that way because it feels good - so damn good that they forget about their problems. They forget about loved ones, wars between factions, crazy raiders, and deathclaws. If they want to forget, who are we to judge?
Certainly there are the wrong-doers taking residence there. People who scam and con innocent people out of their happiness. Or people who think that different opinions are wrong. All of the filth that only people, not mutants, hold within - lust, narrow minds, greed for everything, this all makes it easy for me to avoid New Vegas.
However, a man with no name, no background, and no meaning to me was still able to convince me to head there with him. Six made a promise that if I helped him out at the Strip, he'd help me find the Brotherhood. The damn smooth talker had charisma, brains, and blackmail at the ready. "If you don't join me, you'll never find the brotherhood," he said. Yes I would. "But I'll protect you", he said. I'd be fine, I argued. He ripped my necklace from my neck and told me I'd never get it back if I refused. "You're right," I had told him.
All of his qualities wrapped around my neck like chains, urging me onward with him and filling in the feeling of my now missing necklace. Following him was reckless. He was obviously just trying to get what he wanted, and was willing to use anyone if it means helping him.
Yet I still find myself stepping into his boots tracks like a child as he leads the way. They're the only trail I've got to follow as of now, I just pray I'm not lead to my death. A lace necklace could be the death of me. True, it was important to me. I'd been wearing it when I traveled and when I'd become a person who was missing their past. It must have some importance if I'd had it on all this time, right? Surely. After all, it gave me a name when my memory could not. However, as much as I did want it back, I wouldn't miss it too much. Definitely not enough to walk into a deal that had red flags and alarms. The real reason I followed him for the next few days was because he was enticing and fascinating.
We've made good time. Between his ability to snipe off potential threats on the Mojave roads and the quick pace he's set for us, we reached Vegas in no time. When we approached the Securitrons guarding the strip, we ran into a problem that sent us back through Freeside.
A scream and clash of glass echoed into the night as I spoke, "You traveled so far, following all of these leads to Benny for days with me, and didn't bring enough caps to even reach him?" I questioned.
Six laughed and glanced sideways at me, smirking as always, "I'm sure I can get enough. This place is full of opportunities, Lacey. Look around." I now laughed, but more so to myself. Looking around, all I could see were broken buildings, people drugged out of their minds, strippers, and hopelessness. The air reeked of trash and vomit while the sky drowned in light pollution. There were zero chances to accomplish anything here.
Bright lights caught Six's attention, and I smiled at the way his head slightly tilted and his lips were dampened by his slippery tongue. Purple neon shapes of men dancing surrounded the sign, "King's." Six was enthralled when he went inside. People praising him fueled his ego.
These men ate him up. They adored his good looks and I could see the charm radiating off of him, filling their lungs. It was a drug and they've become addicted. The kings loved him so much that they introduced him to the King himself.
Beautiful woman strutted around the King in very short nightgowns, their hair and makeup as frazzled as their air-filled heads. I had to give them credit, though. This place and this man were definitely ideal choices in keeping themselves safe from Freeside's dangers.
The King fell for Six at first glance, I mean who wouldn't. The slight dirt on his strong face, that evil smirk occasionally accompanied by his bright smile, his black lip piercing. His dark eyes and demanding voice, the way he'd sometimes bite his tongue during a smile, plus that blindingly bright purple hair that covered half his head and drooped over his eye before running a hand through it to keep it back. The way his duster, boots, jeans, and half shaved head screamed "Mojave wasteland savior" attracted me to him. Why not everyone else?
These two laughed and talked for a long time. And all the while I could see the low-key battle between whose charm was more effective. The King seemed genuine in his conversation, but I could tell Six was seeing this as a competition. It's why the King ended up liking him, because Six tried so hard to be liked. I almost choked from the laugh I held in as I watched the King giving him a pass to enter the Strip. He was addicted, too, now.