Louise glanced over her shoulder nervous and resisted the urge to finger her hidden pocket. Yes, this was Freeside, and yes, it wasn't a good area, but- bodyguards? Really? Just to cross a neighborhood? She didn't have that kind of money. Maybe coming out, once she had a few wins under her belt from one of the casinos, but…
A rat easily the size of her dog scampered across her path; she jumped back in shock. Two children in worn Brahmin-skin clothing ran after it, the older of the two waving a knife. A third straggler called out, "Max! Stacey! Wait for me!"
Louise shook her head and quickened her pace. The faster she got out of there the better.
There were vendors up ahead, calling out their wares to any passers-by within range- food, drink, chems. She'd been planning on eating once she got to the casinos- the Tops was supposed to have a decent restaurant- but her stomach was rumbling. She started in the direction of the first vendor; then she stopped. Turning on a spit behind him over a fire of merrily burning trash was a rad-roach. Legs and antennae snapped off, yes, but still a rad-roach. Louise'd had mantis legs before, but roaches… well, there was a limit to what she was willing to swallow. Roach was over the line. She glanced at the next table; she wasn't sure what the skinned things were that the seller had stacked up waiting for their turn at the flames, but they weren't much bigger than… no, they were the size of that rat the kids had been chasing.
She'd been traveling all day in the Nevada sun, but funny, she just wasn't hungry any more. And after a glance at the bottles a few of the vendors had to offer, she wasn't even sure if she was thirsty.
She kept moving. She'd never been to New Vegas before, but the caravan leader had told her it was a pretty straight shot from the north gate of Freeside down to the Strip, and as long as she could pass the credit check the robots there would let her in. Mr. House took pride in keeping the riff-raff out. The Strip would be safe. Maybe her wallet wouldn't be, but she'd be safe. She just had to get there. She'd passed the Followers of the Apocalypse's Fort already, their quartered-circle flag fluttering in the breeze too sluggish to cool the air. Up ahead, a lurid neon sign proclaimed the site of THE KING'S SCHOOL OF IMPERSONATION. Several young men in tight clothes, well-worn leather, and oddly similar-looking black haircuts lingered about the door. One of them cast an insolently assessing glance in her direction.
"Make a brief stop at the Atomic Wrangler, where the booze is cheaper, the tables are friendly, and the women are just like the booze!" called a voice from a nearby side street. Louise glanced over and swiftly averted her eyes; the woman who'd called out her advertisement wore less than she would've thought possible.
"Need somebody dead? Come to the Silver Rush and we'll give you the tools to get the job done!" came a man's voice from the same side street.
Louise didn't look for that one. She was too busy wishing that she'd paid for one of those bodyguards after all- and wondering how fast she could run the rest of the way. It felt like everyone was watching her. Even the empty, dead windows overhead felt like eyes- no, like vantage points for gunners or thieves. She sidled over to the nearest building, keeping the wall's reassuring bulk as close as she could. There were people moving in the shadows down every street, she knew it. Any number of them could be getting ready to slink out after her.
She stepped off the remains of the sidewalk and into the cross-street, and it all happened at once. A rain of footfalls echoing from every concrete surface- a mad, braying laugh all but on top of her- two men in rags and worn-out hats, one swinging a lead pipe, one armed with God alone knew what- the explosion of pain in her ribs-
And the light, the brilliant green light that flared all around and left her attackers staggering away. Louise didn't watch. She could barely breathe, was too busy grasping at her side to open her eyes as the light flared twice more.
When she managed at last, there were two slowly dissolving puddles of luminescent green goo oozing into the cracks in the ruined street, and a worried-looking blond man in a coat marked with the quartered circle of the Followers was asking if she was all right.
"Welcome to the Silver Rush, where we sell only the finest in energy weapons." The intonation was the same every time, and no surprise; Gloria van Graff had the flat, emotionless stare of a fire gecko on the hunt. In a world full of chaos and uncertainty, that much could be counted on to stay the same. "What can I offer you, Mr. Gannon? You're here earlier than usual this month."
"I'm just here for an ammunition top-off," said Arcade. "Went through a few more energy cells this week than I expected. The usual price, I assume?"
"Of course," said van Graff, and gestured to one of her armored thugs to go fetch the keys to the ammunition crate. "Are you sure I can't interest you in something bigger than your Defender today?"
"No… no, that's just fine, thank you," said Arcade. "That's about all that I'm comfortable with."
"Of course," said van Graff. "Make sure to come here when you change your mind."
"Of course."