Coming upon an injured Legionary was not something Arcade was expecting that day.

He could have just left you there, he hated the Legion and everyone in it, but his morals told him otherwise. He couldn’t leave you to die.

He grabbed a stimpak from his bag with a scowl, injecting it into the leg you had been shot in.

You winced in pain, looking at Arcade with a thankful expression.

“Don’t expect me to save you again, Legionary.” He rolled his eyes, helping you up.