Leroy and Emily had been hyping Fallout: New Vegas to Aimee for months, finally convincing her to give it a go. They sat on the couch, eagerly coaching her through the opening moments—explaining SPECIAL stats, suggesting good starting perks, and emphasizing the importance of Speech, Barter, and Lockpick for navigating the Mojave. Aimee, however, was far more interested in looting Sunset Sarsaparilla bottles and shooting radroaches with reckless abandon. By the time she reached the Strip gate, they realized with dawning horror that she had ignored all advice. Aimee’s Speech was at a paltry 9, her Barter barely a blip, and her caps stash was lighter than a packet of Cram. When faced with the 2,000-cap toll, she confidently declared, “I’ve got a solution,” leaving Leroy and Emily intrigued—and slightly nervous.

Her solution was, to put it kindly, morally repugnant and creatively unhinged. Without hesitation, she proposed trying to bribe the Securitrons with… well, let’s just say it involved Old World Blues levels of deviance. Leroy spat out his Nuka-Cola, while Emily stared slack-jawed, clutching her Pip-Boy in horror. “Aimee,” Emily stammered, “this isn’t that kind of wasteland.” Leroy, already halfway out of his seat, muttered something about even Caesar’s Legion having some standards. No matter how much Aimee argued that her approach was both efficient and resourceful, the two friends were united in their disgust. Emily glanced at Victor’s Securitron face and swore she saw it frown in disapproval.

Unable to process what had just transpired, Leroy and Emily devised a solution of their own. They dragged Aimee—still obliviously justifying her abominable plan—to a nearby dumpster behind the Atomic Wrangler. “You belong with the trash,” Leroy declared as he heaved her inside, slamming the lid for good measure. Emily stood there, shaking her head. “Even Benny would think this is low,” she muttered before the two of them walked off, leaving Aimee surrounded by empty jet inhalers and discarded boxing gloves. She yelled after them, “You’ll see! My way *would’ve worked!*” But the sound of the Lucky 38 spinning on the Strip drowned out her protests.

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