The scorching heat of the Mojave Desert bore down upon Arcade as he trudged alongside his travel companion, his eyes squinting against the blinding sun as his hair stuck onto his forehead due to the sweat. With each step, he could feel the relentless heat seeping into his bones, sapping his strength and resolve. A recent skirmish with the super mutants had left him drained, both physically and emotionally, and the oppressive heat only served to worsen his condition.

As they stumbled upon an abandoned home, a relic of a bygone era now reclaimed by the merciless sands, Arcade's vision began to blur as he could feel his skin start to boil from the gamma rays blaring onto him, a telltale sign of impending heatstroke. With a trembling hand, he wiped the sweat from his brow, only to find his skin dry and clammy to the touch. Panic gnawed at the edges of his consciousness as he realized the severity of his situation.

"Hey," he called out to his companion, his voice tinged with urgency. "We need to take a break. I'm not doing so well in this heat." Despite his best efforts to remain composed, Arcade's words came out strained, his breathing shallow and labored. He knew he was teetering on the brink of collapse, and the prospect of seeking shelter was the only thing keeping him upright. "Feel like I'm... Close to passing out."