Dylan fell silent for a while and finally extinguished his butt end in the ashtray. “Okay then.” He looked at Arcade and took his hand. “See ya as soon as I’m back.” With that he placed a hasty kiss onto Arcade’s knuckles and was out of his chair and through the door faster than Arcade could think of something to reply. He stared after him and with a sorrowful shake of his head, clutched his cup of coffee so no one entering could see how much his hands were shaking.
How long he’d sat there he wasn’t sure, but when he heard someone enter he wished they’d go away and leave him in peace. It was Julie, however, and she sat down beside him, placing a new cup in front of him, filled with fresh, steaming coffee. “Was that Dylan I just saw walk out?”, she inquired cautiously. “Yes, why?” “Because... of the... thing we talked about. Are you... are you all right?” Arcade finally dared to look up. It was Julie, after all, his best and oldest friend. The one person in the world who knew and understood him best. “Julie”, he said slowly. “I’m in trouble.” Julie chuckled softly and took his hand, closing her fingers around his. “No. You’re in love.” Arcade gave her an unhappy look. “Same thing really.” x-x-x-x-x-x >>>Kingman, October 25, 2282<<<
“So this is the mighty Courier, the Whore Queen of New Vegas? Commander of an army of robots, leader of a city of slaves, whores, addicts, dissolute and other scum?” The centurion looked with such distaste upon Tara kneeling before him that she wouldn’t have been surprised had he spat into her face. He didn’t, but the disdain in his voice was audible, his facial expression a match. “She doesn’t look so great now, nor victorious, does she? And she smells.” Having been alternately carried by one of the legionaries who had captured her or forced to walk in what was almost a run, with hardly any water and no food, Tara could well imagine that she looked a mess after the last few days. She kept her mouth shut, however, a part of her still waiting to wake up from a nightmare and another one furiously trying to think of a way out of the mess she had gotten herself into.
“And rather overconfident, as well”, the centurion went on. “You didn’t think the Legion wouldn’t be keeping an eye on you, whore of Vegas, for a chance of revenge?” Tara chose not to answer, but her silence infuriated the centurion and earned her a slap on the cheek. “Answer me, useless bitch!” Swallowing, Tara stared at her shackled hands. “No.” “Huh.” His boots were dusty and scraped, and Tara was focussing with all her power on the scrapes to keep her eyes somewhere safe. “Tiberius is going to be disappointed by that one.”
Tiberius. Something cold crept down her spine as she suddenly realised where she had heard that name before: Vincent had talked about him. The son of Caesar. The man whose father she had slain, together with all his army. “Lock her away”, the centurion now said to the men who had brought her here. “I’ll deal with her later.”
Rough hands grabbed her and hauled her to her feet, and again Tara followed one of the men while the other two pointed guns at her head. They brought her to what to Tara seemed to be an old power way station, a small building with a corrugated sheet roof, the plaster crumbling but the walls still solid. The windowless building wasn’t larger than a hut and completely empty inside but for a small bucket and a solid wooden post in the middle. One of her capturers now unlocked her shackles and the other two cocked their guns, pressing two muzzles against her temples as the third man knelt down and shackled her right ankle to the post. Then they left her, locking the door behind her, and Tara was left in the murky darkness, the only light coming from a few cracks between the somewhat skewed, ancient steel plates of the roof.
Turn Wounds into Wisdom 7b/?
How long he’d sat there he wasn’t sure, but when he heard someone enter he wished they’d go away and leave him in peace. It was Julie, however, and she sat down beside him, placing a new cup in front of him, filled with fresh, steaming coffee.
“Was that Dylan I just saw walk out?”, she inquired cautiously.
“Yes, why?”
“Because... of the... thing we talked about. Are you... are you all right?”
Arcade finally dared to look up. It was Julie, after all, his best and oldest friend. The one person in the world who knew and understood him best.
“Julie”, he said slowly. “I’m in trouble.”
Julie chuckled softly and took his hand, closing her fingers around his. “No. You’re in love.”
Arcade gave her an unhappy look. “Same thing really.”
x-x-x-x-x-x
>>>Kingman, October 25, 2282<<<
“So this is the mighty Courier, the Whore Queen of New Vegas? Commander of an army of robots, leader of a city of slaves, whores, addicts, dissolute and other scum?” The centurion looked with such distaste upon Tara kneeling before him that she wouldn’t have been surprised had he spat into her face. He didn’t, but the disdain in his voice was audible, his facial expression a match. “She doesn’t look so great now, nor victorious, does she? And she smells.”
Having been alternately carried by one of the legionaries who had captured her or forced to walk in what was almost a run, with hardly any water and no food, Tara could well imagine that she looked a mess after the last few days. She kept her mouth shut, however, a part of her still waiting to wake up from a nightmare and another one furiously trying to think of a way out of the mess she had gotten herself into.
“And rather overconfident, as well”, the centurion went on. “You didn’t think the Legion wouldn’t be keeping an eye on you, whore of Vegas, for a chance of revenge?”
Tara chose not to answer, but her silence infuriated the centurion and earned her a slap on the cheek.
“Answer me, useless bitch!”
Swallowing, Tara stared at her shackled hands. “No.”
“Huh.” His boots were dusty and scraped, and Tara was focussing with all her power on the scrapes to keep her eyes somewhere safe. “Tiberius is going to be disappointed by that one.”
Tiberius. Something cold crept down her spine as she suddenly realised where she had heard that name before: Vincent had talked about him. The son of Caesar. The man whose father she had slain, together with all his army.
“Lock her away”, the centurion now said to the men who had brought her here. “I’ll deal with her later.”
Rough hands grabbed her and hauled her to her feet, and again Tara followed one of the men while the other two pointed guns at her head. They brought her to what to Tara seemed to be an old power way station, a small building with a corrugated sheet roof, the plaster crumbling but the walls still solid. The windowless building wasn’t larger than a hut and completely empty inside but for a small bucket and a solid wooden post in the middle. One of her capturers now unlocked her shackles and the other two cocked their guns, pressing two muzzles against her temples as the third man knelt down and shackled her right ankle to the post. Then they left her, locking the door behind her, and Tara was left in the murky darkness, the only light coming from a few cracks between the somewhat skewed, ancient steel plates of the roof.