Author's Note: I hope that everybody is doing well. Enjoy the chapter, and please send in reviews.

After Amata's outburst, Mark sent ED-E to follow her to make sure she got back to the 38, but to stay out of sight. Getting Jacob Hoff back to the Old Mormon Fort was a bit difficult. His constant drug use had weakened him, and he basically dragged his feet while Mark and Veronica carried him. On the way there, Mark heard his pip-boy beep. He looked at it and saw that Amata had sent him a message. The message read: I'm back at the 38. Don't think I didn't notice ED-E, either.

"So," Veronica said, "you have no idea why Amata just murdered someone in cold blood, and then stormed off like a child?" "Not a damn clue. I do intend to ask her about it later, but something tells me it's a conversation that I'm not going to enjoy having. I mean, I doubt anyone's gonna cry for that guy, but something about him set her off." "Has she ever acted that way before?" Veronica asked. "No. She's never acted that way before. I mean, she's gotten angry before, mostly at me, even when we were kids, but something about this was different. The way that she was yelling at him, it sounded like she was releasing a lot of pent-up anger and frustration." "Why would she get angry with you?" "Hell if I know. I'm a guy, so apparently everything I do is wrong. Even when I'm doing exactly what she told me to do, somehow it's still wrong."

When they got back to the Fort, they handed Jacob to a couple of Followers doctors, who took him to a nearby tent. Julie Farkas came over to them, with a smile on her face. "You truly have done us a great service. With Bill and Jacob back under our care, we can put them on the road to recovery." Mark waved it off. "Don't mention it. This place looks like it could use all the help it could get." "Hey, where's that woman who was with you before? Your wife, I think you said? I hope nothing happened to her." "She's fine, thanks for asking. She was just…tired, and she went back to where we were staying." Mark looked at his pip-boy. It was close to 5 pm. "Well, Julie, it was a pleasure to meet you, but we should be going. I'll see what I can do about the other things you said needed done another time." "Of course," she said, as they shook hands, "have a good night."

As she walked away, Mark asked, "Veronica, you ready to go?" He looked to where she last was, but she wasn't there anymore. He looked around, and saw her walking towards one of the tents, with what looked like a male Followers doctor sitting in a chair outside of it. Mark followed her, and when he got closer, he saw that the man looked close to forty years old, about 6' 2", had platinum blonde hair, and black horn-rimmed glasses. He hadn't noticed either Mark or Veronica come up to him until Veronica snapped her fingers in front of his face. He seemed a bit startled, but stood up and collected himself.

"Oh, um, sorry. If you're looking for medical attention, you should try one of the other doctors. I'm a researcher, and not even a very good one." "I didn't mean to startle you," Veronica said, "but you looked like you were staring into space, like you were unsure of something." "Oh, no," giving them a small smile, "I was just contemplating the origins of this ball of mud spinning through space that we happen to live on. Oh, but where are my manners? I was taught better than that. My name is Arcade Gannon." "Well, Arcade," Mark said, "I'm Mark Franklin, and this is Veronica Santangelo. Now, what did you mean when you said that you aren't a good researcher?" "Well, my research is mainly focused on finding alternative sources of medicine for common injuries and ailments. Stimpaks out of barrel cacti, and other fantastic improbabilities. I doubt it will go anywhere, though."

"If you think it's improbable," Mark said, "then why are you pursuing it?" "The past hundred years or so, the Followers have gotten by using scavenged medical supplies from the old world, but the side effect of medical success is that people live longer." He chuckled, albeit grimly. "Eventually we're going to run out of hospitals to loot. That's why we need new ways to produce supplies. Or old ways, if this research goes anywhere." He hung his head and sighed. "You don't sound all that enthusiastic about it," Veronica said. "I am enthusiastic about it, but nihil novi sub sole." Both Mark and Veronica looked confused. "Come again?" Mark asked. "Oh, sorry. It's Latin for 'there is nothing new under the sun.' Before you ask, I didn't learn it from the Legion. It's a shame actually. Many people have spoken Latin over the centuries, and some of them were quite pleasant. It's a shame that the language is now being associated with the gentlemen across the river."

Mark thought for a moment. He was going to have to infiltrate a Legion stronghold anyway, so any information couldn't hurt. "You know anything about Caesar?" Mark asked. "Caesar was a member of the Followers, but before my time. He wanted to rebuild the new world in the image of the old. A story of good intentions gone bad. In that regard, he's hardly unique. If you set aside his leadership capabilities, ruthless cunning, and extensive knowledge, he's just another jerk who steps on people to get his way." Veronica spoke. "Something's bothering me. If you think your research isn't going anywhere, why not help treat people, like the other doctors?" "Look, I do have medical experience, but not all of the doctors are 'people persons.' Someone needs to do the research. Even if it is boring…and pointless…and a complete waste of time." He frowned and hung his head again.

Mark had an idea. He reached up and put his right hand on Arcade's left shoulder. Arcade looked up. "Look, Arcade, I think that I can help you out." Arcade looked confused. "I can see that things are bad here. I've already talked with Julie about that. You see, I'm from back east. My dad was a doctor, too, a great one at that. He enjoyed helping people. He wanted to use his knowledge to help improve the wasteland, and he did. He did it because of his drive and determination to get things done. I can tell that you have that same drive; you're just stuck. Along the way, my dad got stuck, too, but he never gave up. You said your research was pointless; I don't think it is. A lot of people said what my dad was working on was pointless, and that it was never going to work, either, but eventually it did work. Travel with me and this group of people that I seem to have collected. My employer has a state-of-the-art laboratory. Come with me, and you can use it. Continue your research. Make a difference. Help these people," Mark said motioning to the rest of the Fort, "just don't give up. If you give up, it's gonna take a hell of a lot longer for things to get better, if at all."

Both Arcade and Veronica stared at him, their mouths agape. "Plus," Mark added, "my wife is pregnant, and it would be nice to have someone with more medical experience than myself nearby." "Damn, kid," Arcade said, "you certainly have way with words. Before I say yes or no, you're saying that I would have free reign. Your employer wouldn't interfere, and I can take anything I find to the Followers?" "You have my word." Arcade thought for a few moments. "Alright, Mark, you can count me in. Just give me a few minutes to get a few things settled."

While Arcade got his things, Mark and Veronica waited near the front gate. "So," said Veronica, "that was, um, quite a speech." "What can I say? Sometimes I just get on a roll like that. It wasn't like I was just talking out of my ass. I meant every word that I said." "So, what was this research that your dad worked on?" Mark had a feeling that she may ask that question. Luckily, Arcade had just come back over towards them with a small brown duffel bag. "You ready, Arcade?" Mark asked. "Yeah. I forgot to ask. Who is your employer, anyway?" "You ever hear of Mr. House?"

Arcade looked shocked. "You mean to tell me that you are working for the Mr. House? The same guy who lords over the Strip from the Lucky 38?" "The very same," Mark said. He ran his hand through his hair and chuckled. "Well, that certainly explains a few things." "Like what?" Veronica asked. "Did you guys hear about that courier who got shot in Goodsprings?" For no apparent reason, the scar on Mark's temple began to pulse. "Yeah," Mark said, rubbing it, "that was me. Left me in a coma for a week." "I'm sorry to hear about that," Arcade said, "I really am. Anyway, they say that he went into the Tops last night, and that Benny, the head of the Chairmen, was found dead shortly thereafter."

"Yeah," said Mark, as they started to walk through Freeside, "he was the one who shot me." "He didn't kill Benny by himself," Veronica interjected, "he had some help." "Yes, Veronica, you and the others helped. Go on, Arcade." "Well, they say that him and a group of people walked into the Lucky 38 like they owned the place, which I'm guessing was you guys. You know, they've started to call you 'the Courier.'" 'Great,' Mark thought, 'another nickname. I guess the Lone Wanderer wasn't enough, now I'm the frickin' Courier. This is not what I imagined when I came out here.' "So, Arcade, tell us about yourself," Veronica said. "Oh, I'm really rather boring. You'd get better stories out of a Freeside junkie." "Come on Arcade," Mark said, "if we're going to be working together, you've gotta tell us something." "Ok, fair enough. I'm in my late thirties. I was born…west of here. I was an only child, and I spent most of my time with my mother. My father died when I was young, and I like medicine and reading about failed pre-war socioeconomic theories. I'm sure you're asking yourself, 'why hasn't some lucky man swooped in and swept this bachelor off his feet?' Like I said, I'm boring." After that, the rest of the walk to the 38 was spent in silence.

Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Until next time.