"Alright, why are we going this way?" one of the Primm convicts asked, as they marched south from the highway patrol station. "Wouldn't it be quicker to circle Primm from the mountainside and go past the quarry or through Goodsprings?"

"Both routes north are blocked off by critters," the guy at the front of the group replied. "The Sloan quarry was taken over by Deathclaws, and even if Goodsprings doesn't shoot us on sight like they did Cobb's crew, one guy back in prison said something about some massive fucking wasps north of there."

"They're called 'cazadores'," another convict piped up. "And you don't wanna fuck with them, they hit like trucks."

"I don't think we've got supplies for a long trip though," the first one commented.

"We can buy some in Nipton," the front guy said, glancing in the direction of the town. With the dust storm over Ivanpah, the town hall and the water tower were just barely visible in the distance.

"I'm sure we've got enough caps and barter junk between all of us."

"Why are they called 'cazadores' and not 'cazadors' though?" another voice asked.

"I think it's from Spanish."

"Yeah, it means 'hunter' or somesuch…'"

Makoto slowly approached what remained of a bridge, joining the halves of what remained of Primm. She wondered what calamity befell the world around her to explain the state it was in at the time, but decided against asking out loud, lest she comes off as too out of place.

The construction was almost completely destroyed, with only a small strip of concrete unbroken. Someone placed a bunch of long planks to widen it just a little bit, but it still didn't fill her with confidence. And, as mentioned earlier, the bridge was mined - there were a bunch of landmines placed on the other end of it. Nobody would trigger them by accident, they were out in the open, but they acted as a seemingly successful deterrent.

On the other side of the bridge was an improvised guard post, made out of sand bags, wood and sheet metal. Behind the sandbags was crouching a guard in a helmet and facewrap, watching her with interest and a bit of confusion. Next to the barricade was an old lamp post from which hung the flag Makoto had noticed earlier. She was able to get a better look at it – the animal on it was a two-headed bear, and the text at the bottom read "New California Republic", in capital letters. As far as she knew Western coats of arms (very little) it was par for the course.

"Hello there!" she waved at the guy on the other end. "I come in peace!"

"What do you want?" he shouted back. "And how did you not get shot by the cons?"

"Long story," she replied, her hands cupped around her mouth. "I represent the good people of Primm. Can I speak with your commander?"

"Sure, why not," he shrugged. "Not like he's doing anything." He pointed down, and then to her right. "Drop down and circle the fence to bypass the mines. Then go down the road towards me and you should see some tents. Ask for Lieutenant Hayes."

Makoto dropped off the bridge on a pile of rubble and skidded down from it onto what used to be a six lane highway. She marched past chunks of corroded car carcasses, alongside a metal fence with wide cobblestone pillars, reinforced here and there with more sheet metal. When it ended, she turned ninety degrees, marched past another ramshackle NCR guard post, turned another ninety degrees and reentered the town.

That side of Primm was even more dilapidated than what she already saw. No building remained untouched, and most of them resembled shards of jagged glass, filed down by time and disuse. There were a bunch of NCR soldiers, patrolling the area or standing on the ruins tall enough to provide a good vantage point to observe the other side of the town. Most of them were staring at Makoto with what she assumed was mostly innocent curiosity. Either she was sticking out that much from the crowd, or her presence here was unusual in some other way.

Undeterred, she marched down the only road available. She went past a bunch of ruins and a junction leading towards the other end to the bridge from before, and ended up in a cul-de-sac with two drab canvas marquee tents and two well-worn wooden picnic tables, probably used by the soldiers during meals. Not willing to barge into what might've been someone's private headquarters, Makoto tapped the wall of one of the tents with an open palm a few times. "Excuse me, could I speak with Lieutenant Hayes?"

A man in an NCR uniform with a matching beret came out of the tent. "I'm Lieutenant Hayes of the New California Republic Army, 5th Battalion, 1st Company," he introduced himself, in a firm, formal tone. "And you will shoot your kidney out if you bump that pistol in your waistcoat."

"I do not have a holster, and would rather not greet anyone with a weapon in my hand." Makoto carefully pulled it out and pointed it at the ground; she had no training, but enough common sense to keep her finger off the trigger. "I'm Makoto Niijima, and I am here on behalf of the people of Primm, to inquire why you're just sitting on your thumbs instead of helping them."

Hayes stared at the pale-skinned young girl in front of him, weirdly spotless and speaking English with an unusual accent he couldn't pin down. "Are you a Vault dweller?"

Makoto answered evasively: "What does it change?"

"Whether I need to preface my answer with a short lesson on the politics of the area."

"Ooh." Makoto reacted with curiosity that Hayes found weird. "Let's just say I am not a local and I am willing to learn more about the area. You can go into detail if you want to, sir."

"I'll be brief. I'm an officer, not a historian." He pointed at one of the wooden picnic tables. "Siddown."

Makoto placed herself on the bench, her back towards the table counter, and put her hands on her knees like a good pupil. Hayes considered it more proof she couldn't have been one of the locals.

"Right, so," Hayes started, "I represent the New California Republic, the NCR. My nation came to Mojave for two reasons. One of them is securing the Hoover Dam and Lake Mead, for the electricity and uncontaminated water they provide. The other is stopping the Legion from advancing across the Colorado river and threatening the- we're not in class, just ask the question."

Makoto lowered her hand. "What is Caesar's Legion?"

Hayes scowled. "Barbarians, all of them. A large group of degenerate raiders, patterned after an Old World civilization, led by a madman calling himself Caesar. If you encounter a raiding patrol in dark red football gear, run and don't look back. They'll either kill you on the spot or make you wish you were dead."

Makoto took that description with a grain of salt, but did not dismiss it outright. It could've been war propaganda, but based on the lawlessness around her, she wouldn't dare to test that hypothesis if she could've helped it. "And what can you tell me about your Republic?"

"Well," he explained, "it started as a small town established by some Vault dwellers a hundred and some years ago, and grew out from there. Now, we consist of five states covering what used to be the Southwestern United States."

"That's your history," Makoto pointed out, "but what do you personally think about the country, sir?"

"In short, we're the good guys," Hayes replied, in a slightly dejected tone – like he believed it, but thought that sentence should come with an asterisk. "Democracy, rule of law, and all the good stuff about the pre-War US with none of the oppressive dictatorship. And we live up to it… even if it doesn't look like it some of the time."

Hayes' frustration was apparent even to Makoto. "Is there something wrong? Did I say something impolite?"

"No, no, it's just the usual." Realizing she might not know what 'the usual' means, he elaborated: "We have insufficient manpower and material. Our intel underestimated how quickly the convicts will organize, and with what we've got, we can't do much besides holding this position. Heck, a bunch of convicts just snuck out and moved south and we couldn't react to that."

"Well, uh," Makoto said, looking aside, "that last thing is kinda my fault."

"Hm?" Hayes wasn't angry, just curious. "How so?"

"Well, I bumbled into town, tried to bluff my way out of hot water, and accidentally convinced some of the more disheartened convicts to depart to a location called Westside. Reportedly there's a more benevolent faction of ex-prisoners operating there."

"I see," Hayes rubbed his chin. "I've heard about that group through the grapevine. They're out of the way enough that the brass doesn't care for now."

"Right." Makoto pointed at Primm. "Now that there's less hostiles in town, can you do anything, sir?"

"Unfortunately, there's still too many of them and too few of us." Gears started turning in Hayes' head. "But… there might be something you can do to convince the higher-ups to send reinforcements."

Makoto perked up; a solution was in sight. "I'm all ears."

"Currently, Primm is an independent, unaffiliated town," Hayes explained. "Strictly speaking, the NCR doesn't have to do anything about their problems. But if it were to request formal access to the Republic, the brass would have to care. From a pragmatic standpoint, Primm's strategic location makes it valuable enough to accept into the fold, and the higher-ups would rather hand themselves to Legate Lanius than officially admit they can't defend their territory."

"That…" Makoto had second thoughts about the idea. "Um, permission to speak freely?"

"If you can't speak freely, I'm doing my job wrong," Hayes quipped.

"That sounds like coercion, sir."

"Well…" Hayes paused for a moment. "It does, I don't deny it." His tone seemed sincere, he seemed somewhat frustrated with the scenario he was in. "I would say that it's just the gears of bureaucracy and not active malice, but that doesn't really change much, does it? That's the hand we've been dealt. I am genuinely open to better ideas."

Makoto considered her options for a moment. "I think I'm gonna return to the townsfolk and ask them for their opinion." She got up from the bench. "Nihil de nobis, sine no-"

Hayes twitched. His fists balled up in an instant.

"-I'm sorry?"

"Don't use that language," he barked, before catching himself. "I mean, that's just a piece of advice. Some people might react worse than I did."

"That just meant 'nothing about us, without us'," she explained. "Nothing vulgar or anything."

"Still, with a bunch of Rome-patterned beasts around the corner, people will overreact to Latin," Hayes pointed out.

"Right. I apologize."

"Shit." went one of the convicts.

His cellmate turned to him. "What?"

The first one pointed in the direction of Nipton in response. "Look."

The group had just reached the ruins of the interchange of I-15 and the road to Nipton. With the dust storm left behind, the town was visible in the distance, and so were the plumes of black smoke going up to the sky. Two other convicts had noticed them before the one that spoke up, but didn't feel like drawing attention to themselves.

The group slowly ground to a halt, staring into the distance. "Damn," the guy at the front remarked, "did they get hit by raiders?"

One of the convicts squinted, and noticed a crimson banner hanging from the roof of the town hall. "Worse. That thing on the roof there?" He pointed at it. "That's Legion colors."

Everyone, to a man, suddenly lost a large chunk of their confidence. Rumors about the Legion circulated freely around the prisoners. They knew what to expect. "Luh-Legion this far west?" one of them blurted out. "Did they-did they invade already?"

"There would've been many more soldiers here if that was the case," the guy at the front replied. "I think it was just a raid." He put a lot of stress on the 'just'. "A really flashy one, so that everyone in the area knows what happened." A pause. "That they can get away with it, that deep into NCR ground."

Silence followed, as the group just stood there, unsure what's the best course of action from there. Finally, one of the cons in the back said the quiet part out loud: "What do we do now?"

"We keep going," the guy at the front proclaimed, marching up the shoulder towards the Nipton road.

"Are you nuts?" someone protested.

"This is still the safest way to Westside," he said, without stopping. "If the Legionaries are still there, we can circle the town unnoticed. And if they scrammed, we can pick up some scraps to sell at the Outpost or something."

"I think we should change plans at this point," someone else said. "At that rate Caesar will get the whole Mojave, Westside included." He pointed at the top of the nearby hill; I-15 continued up it, towards the massive monument of two Rangers shaking hands, made out of scrap metal. "Like, we're all in civvie clothes, the troops at the outpost won't bat an eye. We could split into a few small groups, and hitch rides with caravans back to the core NCR."

"They're always looking for brahmin shit shovelers back in the Republic," another one added. "It's not great, but it's still better than laying rail for no pay."

The group murmured in agreement.

"I ain't gonna stop ya, guys," the front guy replied. "I ain't your dad." He paused. "But if I'm right that it's supposed to be a show, then the Legion left a bunch of folks to die on crosses there. They might live if someone'll get them down quickly enough."

"I'm going with you." One convict stepped out and approached him. "To Nipton at least. I owe you one after you stopped that bitch from kicking my teeth in on the spot. And hey, one way or another you were right that we should bail from Primm."

"Anyone else?" the guy at the front asked.

Nobody stepped forward this time. "Look, you seem to have this covered," said one of them, his conscience sufficiently assuaged.

"Here, have an extra gun," another one handed him over his varmint rifle. "You'll need this more than I do. Though I hope you won't. Good luck."

The group marched uphill, towards the NCR outpost, as the duo turned east and marched down the Nipton road.

"Y'know, I never caught your name back in the clink," one of them remarked.

"Joe," the other one replied. "Joe Smith."

He chuckled. "Really?"

"Really. I'm just glad it wasn't John. And you?"

"Diego Salazar."

"Right, Diego." Joe pointed at the ruins of a rest stop, somewhere in the middle of the road between them and Nipton. "I think we should be careful approaching that spot. Twenty caps say there's a bunch of raiders hiding in it."

After some time, Makoto trotted back to the NCR tents and slapped one of them with the palm of her hand again.

Hayes' head stuck out of it. "You again." He noticed the holster now hanging from her hip and a clipboard in her hand, both probably given to her by the Primm townsfolk. "What did the townies say?"

"They grumbled about taxes, but in the end they requested access." She handed the clipboard over to him. There was a sheet of paper attached to it. "Will this be sufficient?"

Hayes glanced at the letter of accession. It was written by hand, more formally than he had expected given the circumstances. At the bottom of it there were a few signatures of the inhabitants of Primm.

"Are there any errors?" Makoto asked. "English is my second language, and I don't have much experience with documents in it."

"It looks alright to me." Hayes glanced at her. "I don't see your signature on it though, Miss Niijima."

"Like I said, I am not a local," she replied. "It doesn't seem right for me to weigh in on this."

Hayes decided to go for the direct approach. "And where are you from?"

"Unbelievably far away."

"I want a straight answer," Hayes firmly demanded.

Makoto had only a few seconds to come up with a good lie. Saying 'Tokyo, Japan' would single her out too much. The safest idea seemed to be name-dropping a city large enough to have a significant immigrant population, to justify her own appearance and accent. The convict said she's in Nevada, so… Vegas? No, that probably didn't sound 'unbelievably far away'. California was bordering Nevada, that much she picked up from pop culture, and the world was dilapidated enough that a large city by the East Coast would probably sound far away enough. And so, she took a leap of faith and said, confidently:

"I'm from San Francisco."

It was a good lie – San Francisco had a large Chinese-descended population, and the politics of the Great War made China the first country most people would think of when seeing an East-Asian-looking person. The city also steadfastly maintained its independence from the NCR, which meant her lack of knowledge of the politics of the area was understandable – some people in the core NCR did not care about the war in the slightest, and San Fran was even further away from it all. The lie was too good in fact, since it made Hayes assume that she knew what she was doing. But let's not get ahead of ourselves…

"I see." Hayes commented. "And how did you end up alone in Primm?"

"I was traveling with a group of… I don't want to say 'vigilantes', but we helped a bunch of people that needed it." Makoto went with a half-truth. "We ended up attacked by some runaway convicts and I ended up split from the rest of the group. I wandered into Primm looking for civilization and you know the rest."

Hayes thought it sounded plausible enough. "Are you a member of the Followers of the Apocalypse?"

"No, it was a smaller outfit," she said. "Just a bunch of us in a single group."

"I see." He handed her back the clipboard. "Now, I could request it delivered via official channels, but if someone were to just carry it to the outpost today, we could get people here before tomorrow."

Makoto remembered one of the cons mentioning an outpost. "You mean the one south of here?"

"Yes," Hayes nodded. "It's only a few hours away, and since an armed group had gone down that road earlier, it'll probably be mostly clean of the wildlife or other nonsense."

"And I could wait there for my teammates to come over and pick me up," Makoto said, not even lying at that point. "I'll head out immediately."

"Ask for Major Knight when you get there," Hayes instructed her. "I'll radio him and tell him you're coming."