if anyone has a recommendation it would be welcome or an honest opinion about the story.
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POV of NCR citizen
Three days passed.
No one spoke of Joel anymore—at least not out loud. But the cans were still there. Some in my cupboard. I still had a sack of grain he left us, the kind we used to make bread, rationing every portion like gunpowder in a long war. Now that he was gone, we had to depend on some other lunatic willing to cross into Legion territory. And it didn't take long for one to show up.
The gap Joel left didn't last. There was clearly a market. Lucrative. Quiet. Dangerous.
The new smuggler was nothing like Joel. He had the perfect smile, eyes always scanning. You could tell he was a real merchant, hardened by the road, with his own workers and a caravan that looked more like a business than a desperate gamble. He brought more goods, sure. More variety, more quantity. Even tools.
But he wasn't Joel.
He didn't talk like he still believed in us. He didn't give anything away. If you couldn't pay, he simply moved on. Didn't matter if you were starving or if you'd bought from him last week. Business was business.
Routine returned. With less hope.
I still went hunting, like always, but it wasn't the same. The beasts were thinning out. What we once celebrated—fewer mutants, fewer dangers on the road—was now bad news. The local economy, if you could even call it that, was barely breathing. Farms were still empty, fields dry. No rain, and no one knew when it would return.
And here I am, sitting in front of an oil lamp, cracking my teeth on stale bread still made from Joel's grain. Thinking that maybe... just maybe... crossing over wasn't surrender. It was survival.
That morning, I managed to kill a couple of radroaches. Big, slow, with gelatinous meat and that warm, poisonous stench. I didn't want to eat that crap. Just thinking of handing it to my wife to turn into something that wouldn't make us puke hurt my pride.
Instead of taking them home, I went straight to the merchant's stand, hoping to trade them for some rounds for my Winchester. Maybe I'd get lucky with something better.
The guy didn't ask much. Weighed the meat with a stick, wrinkled his nose, and tossed it aside. He dropped five bullets on the cloth.
"Here you go. Can't give you much for this," he said without looking at me, stashing something in a wooden box. He caught my gaze. Pulled out a large, gold coin that gleamed even in the shade. "An aureus from the Legion... interested? Nine hundred and forty dollars."
"How much?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise.
"Yeah. That's what it's worth now," he replied, flipping it between his fingers. "They're not easy to trade anymore, and getting one's even harder. Not many willing to swap a coin with real value for this NCR paper trash," he added, showing me a Republic bill so thin it looked ready to fall apart.
I stepped closer. The coin looked newer than anything I'd seen. One side had the profile of a man—strong jaw, short hair, calm expression—and the other side, Hoover Dam.
"Who's that?" I asked.
The merchant shrugged.
"Used to be an old guy, nearly bald. That was Caesar. This one's younger... maybe the new Caesar, or the heir. Either way, looks like the Legion will be part of our lives for a long time," he said with a faint grin, like he was talking about the weather.
"Damn... what do you think? I've got some money saved... would it be smarter to hold Legion coins?" I asked, feeling stupid just saying it out loud.
"Of course. Unless you're an idiot. Legion coins are gold and silver. They'll never lose their value. Even if the Legion disappears from the map, they'll still be worth something," he answered, laughing dryly like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I nodded silently, took the bullets, and calmly loaded the Winchester. I felt the cold weight of the weapon in my hands and went out again, hoping to find something valuable enough to keep from coming home empty-handed.
This time, with a bit more confidence, I wandered farther from the town's edge. I found some edible plants I'd seen before, and managed to bring down a coyote from a large pack heading south. The investment had paid off. Finally, something that was worth it.
I got home exhausted and sat there for a long time, quietly thinking. The next day, I sold every last NCR dollar I had. I traded them for Legion coins and hid them fast. Got a few aureus, some denarii. It wasn't much, but at least I wouldn't get hit as hard if the inflation kept up.
Days passed. The recovery they kept promising on TV never came. They said the numbers were good, indicators were up, stability was near. But only those who fed on statistics believed that. I had to go farther every day just to find food or herbs. We lived one day at a time. Literally. Every day was a gamble.
Until one day, I just had enough.
I couldn't go on like this. Couldn't keep getting up at five in the morning to walk dozens of kilometers just to maybe bring something back. My feet hurt. My back ached. And my pride was in pieces.
I remembered Joel.
No word had come from him. We didn't know if he made it, if he was caught, or if he chose to stay and never look back. The last image I had was of him leaving, head high. Confident. Like he really believed the other side of the river offered something more.
I had no more faith in the NCR. I fought every day just to keep my family decent—but I couldn't even guarantee they were okay. These weren't bad days. This was a bad life.
So I chose to follow Joel's path. Go see for myself. If it was real, we'd get out of this nightmare. And if it was a trap... at least I tried.
I sold whatever I had that still held value and could be traded quickly. Didn't make much, but it was enough. NCR dollars weren't worth much, but in large amounts they could still bribe a hungry border guard.
We packed everything into the car. A few bags, some water, tools, and what food we had left. When the sun rose, I started the engine, and we began our journey east.
Into Legion territory.
When we were near the border, I waited for nightfall. As soon as it got dark, I drove to the spot marked on the map, the place they'd told me I could cross if I paid well.
It didn't take long before I was stopped. Two guards stepped out of the darkness with flashlights and sidearms. I got out right away. Just like they told me, I pulled out a thick wad of bills and laid it on the hood. They stared at each other for a few seconds, then took the money without a word and nodded for me to go.
And so I did. I hit the gas the moment they raised the rusty barrier. Within minutes, the road changed. From cracked, potholed pavement we passed onto a solid, straight route, like someone had paved it last week.
As we approached the border post, I saw the banner of the bull flying proudly—gold on red. There were people nailed to wooden posts along the trench. A massive trench had been dug around the road, and the only way in was the road itself, heavily guarded even at that hour. No shortcuts. No way around. We could only go forward and pray Joel hadn't walked into a trap.
As soon as we crossed a certain point, two giant floodlights snapped on and blinded us instantly. The lights stayed locked on me. I couldn't see anything—just shadows moving around us.
A group of men came out of the building. They walked over slowly. Legionaries. All had rifles slung over their backs, but they didn't use them. Instead, they drew long, straight machetes with clean blades. They walked in formation, silent. I felt my wife's trembling hand gripping mine. She was trying to stay calm, but her breathing was speeding up.
I felt it too. That pressure in my chest. My heart pounding like a hammer.
I couldn't see their faces. They wore red bandanas covering their mouths and dark glasses that showed nothing. Just their size, their posture, and muscles that looked carved from stone. They closed in without hesitation.
One of them stopped in front of the car, raised his machete, and pointed it at me.
"Did you come looking for death, profligate?" he asked in a harsh, gravelly voice.
My voice barely came out. "I heard there was work… that it pays well," I said, my voice shaking.
"Do you carry anything forbidden by Lord Caesar?" asked the second legionary, shining a flashlight into the vehicle.
"Like what?" I asked, my fear obvious.
"Alcohol, drugs, things used by profligates like you," said the third, his voice dry and stern.
"None of that… just clothes… and this," I said, showing the box where I kept some Legion coins.
"I'll take you to my decanus immediately," said the first as he sheathed his machete. The others followed suit, and one of them raised a hand in signal. The floodlights turned off instantly.
It felt like my soul had just returned to my body. The silence came back. The pressure in my chest started to ease as I followed the legionaries. They took us to another man dressed like them, but with a few differences—his helmet had red and white feathers, and he was calmly typing at a terminal.
"Ave, true to Caesar. Decanus Severus, a group of peregrini has crossed the border," said one of the legionaries who stopped us.
The decanus looked at me and my family.
"Do you have your NCR paperwork?" he asked, eyes locked on mine.
"Yes… yes, I have it," I said, pulling it out with trembling hands.
One of the legionaries took the papers and handed them to the decanus. He reviewed them for a few seconds and began typing something. Then they had us stand in front of a camera for a photo. They also scanned our fingerprints. Finally, they printed out a document, and the decanus tossed our old papers into a metal trash bin that clanged shut.
He handed us the new ones with a neutral expression.
"Here you go, peregrini. With this, you may travel across Lord Caesar's territory. With the blessing of Mars, nothing should happen to you," he said, motioning us toward the exit.
I took the documents and returned to the vehicle. I drove a few meters, then stopped. Took a deep breath. My arms were shaking. I thought I was going to die right there in front of those men.
After resting for a bit, we got back on the road. It was straight, clean, quiet. I didn't see a single beast the whole trip. No thieves, no raiders, no ambushes.
Just asphalt, clear signs, and silence.
After several hours, I started to see a glow on the horizon. A huge city began to shine. Tall skyscrapers. The city stretched in every direction.
We arrived while it was still night, but the streets were already buzzing. Most were workers coming and going, some in groups, others alone, all in a hurry. It looked like the city was still under construction—or maybe expanding—because there wasn't a single area without activity.
Not long after, a legionary stopped us. Asked where we came from, checked our papers, and pointed us to who we needed to speak to.
They sent us to what looked like the main administrative building. It was near the only building still recognizable: the Lucky 38. Surprisingly, it was still standing, but now covered from base to top in Legion banners.
The building was full. Inside, dozens of workers moved about. Some dressed like legionaries, but instead of weapons they carried folders and papers. Others wore slave collars and followed bureaucrats barking nonstop orders. At the far end, on a metal platform, stood a man who clearly commanded respect. He wore power armor painted in dark red and gold, with the bull standard on his chest. Even among the chaos, it was impossible not to notice him.
"Ave, true to Caesar. Centurion Marcellus, peregrini seeking work," said the legionary escorting us, pointing in our direction.
"Ave, true to Caesar. Excellent. Can you read and write?" asked the man in the power armor, wasting no time.
"Yes… centurion… my wife and I… we're educated," I answered with my head down.
"Fantastic. It's good when educated peregrini arrive. Speak with that one over there, he'll give you the list of available jobs," said the centurion, pointing at a man with a collar organizing papers at a desk. Then he turned back to giving orders to the bureaucrats around him, paying us no further attention.
We approached the slave, who handed us a large, tri-folded sheet without a word. It listed all available jobs, their wages, and the benefits offered.
There were administrative positions, farm work, construction, driving, library service, material transport, kitchen work, even terminal maintenance. Many of the salaries were considerable compared to what was earned in the NCR, though most of the difference came from the rampant inflation.
But the real issue was housing.
Only three jobs provided immediate housing, deducted from the wage: working for state administration, farming, or construction companies. The rest paid a little more, but didn't include that benefit. And there were other restrictions.
Some jobs couldn't be taken by women. Like the administrative ones. According to the local law, those roles were for citizens or soldiers only.
I stared at the sheet in silence, stomach tight. I had escaped hunger… but now came the decision about which cage we were going to live in.
In the end, I took the administrative job. It wasn't a high-ranking post within the Legion. I worked under an internal auditing branch, tasked with ensuring that state funds were used efficiently. Most of the time it meant comparing prices, checking market values, and verifying that government workers' declarations matched reality. Occasionally, I had to visit a site or a warehouse, but not often.
In exchange, we were given a four-room apartment.
It had everything we needed. Stable electricity, running water, air conditioning to survive the hot days. The food was incredibly cheap, just like Joel had said. You could literally buy brahmin meat with ease. It was the usual diet for most of the city. Though apparently, it wasn't the same brahmin as before—it was a mutated variant with only one head. Still, everyone ate it without worry. And it tasted good.
My daughter was able to go back to school. Though it was different.
The Legion considers women inferior to men, and that limited my wife. She could only take a job at the public library. But all things considered, women could still study to become doctors, engineers, or technical assistants. What they couldn't do was work in administrative or judicial roles. Those were strictly for men or retired legionaries.
A month went by quickly.
When you don't have to fight every day just to eat, time becomes soft. The days don't hurt. I adapted quickly to the city. You had to be careful about what you said, how you looked at legionaries. Always keep your head down. But outside of that, there were no problems. The streets were safe. Sometimes they crucified someone caught drinking in public. But there were no robberies, no street fights, no midnight shootouts. Many of those conflicts were now settled in the combat arena. Some days the city went wild when a centurion fought a deathclaw kept in captivity, or when there was a major fight.
We earned well. Between my wife and I, we brought in about fifteen aureus a month. With expenses staying under ten, we had room for small luxuries. Better food. New clothes. Furniture.
Even though I still felt guilt.
Guilt for crossing. For working for the Legion. For leaving behind everything I had been taught. But at least, I no longer had to fight every day just to stay alive.