Sabin uneasily slid his pistol back into its holster, still weary of this computerized Mr. House and missing his obvious insult. Robots, mutants, no matter what they were called, they were a threat to humanity and could not be trusted. He swore to himself that he wouldn't let himself fall for any of their tricks, the NCR had trusted him with a lot here, he realized. Or they'd send someone that they wouldn't miss... No, that couldn't be it, this was obviously an important mission and it's outcome would mean a lot for the NCR. The idea that he was doing something important for the NCR made him proud. He'd have to stay vigilant and make sure that nothing gets past him. The NCR could use these railroad things, and if they were planned as weapons against the NCR, Sabin would be there to stop them.

Sovi3t said
" Heh' I don't mean it like that, but you don't know what tricks or things the NCR and BoS have up there sleeves now-a-days. I wouldn't mind killing either one, I just need verifcation on what to do, besides chatter on radio logs show that there has been some BoS movement in New Vegas recently"Javier digs his face into his pip boy, using the encoder to find the radio tranmisson

At the words "I wouldn't mind killing either one", Sabin's ears perked up. Did he just threaten to kill members of the NCR military? Who did he think he was? Immediately stomping over to the man, Sabin went up close and stuck his finger in the man's face. "You won't touch any NCR soldiers, ya hear? You ain't nothin', and you wouldn' stand a chance against even the rookiest of soldiers, you're nothing! If you continue to make threats on the New California Republic, I won't hesitate to shoot you righ' 'ere and now, ya got it?" No one would be hurting any NCR soldiers, not with Sabin on the case.

Daemyn Sterk said
Sabin uneasily slid his pistol back into its holster, still weary of this computerized Mr. House and missing his obvious insult. Robots, mutants, no matter what they were called, they were a threat to humanity and could not be trusted. He swore to himself that he wouldn't let himself fall for any of their tricks, the NCR had trusted him with a lot here, he realized. ... No, that couldn't be it, this was obviously an important mission and it's outcome would mean a lot for the NCR. The idea that he was doing something important for the NCR made him proud. He'd have to stay vigilant and make sure that nothing gets past him. The NCR could use these railroad things, and if they were planned as weapons against the NCR, Sabin would be there to stop them.At the words "I wouldn't mind killing either one", Sabin's ears perked up. Did he just threaten to kill members of the NCR military? Who did he think he was? Immediately stomping over to the man, Sabin went up close and stuck his finger in the man's face. "You won't touch any NCR soldiers, ya hear? You ain't nothin', and you wouldn' stand a chance against even the rookiest of soldiers, you're nothing! If you continue to make threats on the New California Republic, I won't hesitate to shoot you righ' 'ere and now, ya got it?" No one would be hurting any NCR soldiers, not with Sabin on the case.

"Heh' I didn't mean to offend the NCR nor Brotherhood banner , but this "contract" one could say will turn alot of eyes and ears up everywhere. Sure Mr.House runs the Hoover Dam but the thing is , building a cross American Railine in some people's eyes is a great asset. The NCR would want to it expand there operations. The BoS would probably want to as well to expand there operations but to reap the tech. I respect the NCR and BoS but at the end of the day there on the same train to get this line. I understand that ya' looking for the greater good and all' but there's often a few bad egg's here and there, that want to take all the credit. All I'm saying is these groups are gunna' be vying for the track and power, and let's face it, who wouldn't want a track that allows you to travel across America in a matter of hours?"

The gathered crowd was impressive at first glance. Jacob's analytical temperament took over as everyone socialized, the whole group was unique and for lack of a better term, special in their own ways. As the amassed gathering clustered around the large vid-screen in the center of the room, Jacob stayed back awaiting the briefing. He'd expected a big job, to be apart of something wildly important. Hell, he didn't even know if there'd be an application or interview process. Mr. House worked in mysterious ways. As the briefing took place, his eyes glued onto the still eyes of Mr. House on the vid-screen.

It looked like they were repairing a national trolley line running from the west to east coast in three different routes. An important task, indeed. As the questions were asked and the technology behind it explained, Jacob merely payed enough attention to understand his role in all this. He'd be there as the handyman essentially, a good shot if needed. He wasn't a fan of killing, distracting perhaps, but killing was something done out of necessity only. Some things were justified more than others in his mind, and he understood that someone on the other end of his rifle could be just another person following orders.

Than as the whole NCR-Brotherhood debacle turned up, he rolled his eyes. After Javier was done talking, Jacob spoke up.

"This is bound to become the biggest power struggle the wastes will ever see. There's going to be an all out war all across the country, heh, should say i'm damn excited to be caught up in the middle of it." After taking in another deep inhale of his cigarette, he walked over to an ashtray on a nearby nightstand and put it out.

With a smooth exhale, he snapped back to Mr. House, casually glancing over to Mr. Tenpenny as well. "Is there going to be some sort of assurance that this newfound technology will be used beneficially for the future of the wasteland or is it going to be exploited like any other business venture in this beautiful city? Can't say I care either way, what i'm trying to get at is...will I ever see my hometown glow like this place?"

Well things certainly had heated between some of the others. As house answered her questions, but avoided the last one, an eye brow raised in curiosity. Rebecca nodded "Welp, Guess that's that then. So when are-" She stopped at the mention of the BoS and NCR came up. It would be interesting, to see more BoS on her travels. "The Brotherhood are not as harmful as you might think" She started to say, but knew that she was probably drowned out by everyone's conversations. Thought the only real one she heard anymore was Sabin.

"You won't touch any NCR soldiers, ya hear? You ain't nothin', and you wouldn' stand a chance against even the rookiest of soldiers, you're nothing! If you continue to make threats on the New California Republic, I won't hesitate to shoot you righ' 'ere and now, ya got it?" Blah blah blah. God this kid..." She thought to her self. Rebecca stood up from her chair and tossed her notebook back into her pack. Walking up behind Sabin she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Sabin, will you please shut the hell up for a second?" She asked in a voice she knew he would be able to hear. He is such a hot head.. Kids going to get him self in trouble sooner or later." She sighed again

Shark Club, New Reno
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“And stay out!” shouted the head bouncer, a well-built man who looked he was deep in his thirties as his goons threw Brimble out the club. “Beat it you fucking genius,” he continued his taunts as Brimble picked himself off the ground. “I don’t give a shit if you’re a copper with a buzzer the size of fucking New Vegas!”

“New Reno’s got only three rules; booze, blow and babes you fucking crumb!”

“Crumb?” parroted Brimble as his face grew red for his insolence. “Now you listen to me you quigly bint!” he continued chest pumped up against the bouncer who was at least a head taller than the fine gentleman. “Have you not known in that mewling brain of yours who I am? I a-“

“A fucking crusty crumb who’s giving me the fucking doll face who thinks he’s got the lowdown” said the bouncer to the small gentlemen whose moustache furrows into what resembles a puffy weasel as he pushes his face onto his.

“I said scram!” said the bouncer as he punctuates his warning by shoving Brimble, making the fine gentlemen to go arse-over-tit and causing his hat to fall.

Picking himself up, Brimble dusts himself clean and calmly walks up to the bouncers with a stiff lip; one that any gentlemen would be proud of. His earlier imitation of an angry rat melting into a visage of calmness, Brimble buckles his belt one more time and said “Now, no need to be rude but you have pushed me to a certain resolution” in a threatening tone inciting a small chuckle from the bouncers.

“Oh, by the way,” he continued. “I am Sir Barnabus Brimble.”

Barnabus smiles as he reaches for his knife hidden in his vest. In one quick motion, he slashes the throat of the head bouncer which the man reflexively clutches his throat before Brimble pulls him by his shirt and tosses him on the ground. Taking advantage of the stunned bouncers, Brimble pounces the one to his right, jamming his knife into the man’s chest killing him almost immediately.

Retrieving his blade, Brimble turned his attention to the third man whose face tells him all he needs to know. Charging his pistol and taking aim, Brimble flips the knife and throws the blade, hitting his mark; between the eyes as it should be. Checking his clothes for any signs of gore and happy that there was none, he then collected and cleaned his blade before he took notice to the head bouncer, still clinging on to dear life as he drowned in a pool of his own blood. Brimble picked up his hat, remembering his prey who he tracked from Junktown for days. Brimble walked into the club but not before giving the head bouncer one more glance just for him to inform him;

"Tis Sir Barnabus Brimble, Hunter Extraordinaire!"

Ellie just frowned as her issue was addressed and explained. These rails were ABOVE ground? What Ashur had told her made her think that they were just like the metro tunnels and shit they had in New York or DC... But even if they were above ground that doesn't mean there won't be rubble on the tracks somewhere... But from the way they seem to have everything else thought up she just shrugged and went with it and decided to just listen in on the quickly surmounting chaos that was the rest of the group.

As piss-pants stands, she can't help but scowl, she knew it couldn't be good as he stomped over to one of the cowboy-wannabes and starts screaming... some crock of shit about how awesome awesome those soldier bastards strutting around the Mojave were. Fuck... has this pissant EVER been out in the real wastes? It sounds like he's spent his whole life eating whatever crock of shit those sons-a-bitches put in front of him and it just disgusted her.

"Ho-ly fucking shit" she growls before yelling over to Rebecca "God dammit woman would you take that hothead into the other room and GIVE him some fucking head so he just shuts the fuck up?"

she stands and moves over towards Sabin, "God dammit Piss Pants you sound pretty fucking tough for somebody who couldn't even look a mutant in the eyes without pissin' yourself. You really think you can do a fucking thing to anybody in this room without getting either a knife in the chest or a bullet to the brainpan. Your fucking soldiers can't even stand up against a god damn face on a screen!" she snarls, gesturing to the monitor, "So would you kindly shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down before YOU'RE the dumb fuck that's put down like a rabid dog? Nut up or shut up sir baby-bladder. Either do something or sit the fuck back down."

'

Daemyn Sterk said
At the words "I wouldn't mind killing either one", Sabin's ears perked up. Did he just threaten to kill members of the NCR military? Who did he think he was? Immediately stomping over to the man, Sabin went up close and stuck his finger in the man's face. "You won't touch any NCR soldiers, ya hear? You ain't nothin', and you wouldn' stand a chance against even the rookiest of soldiers, you're nothing! If you continue to make threats on the New California Republic, I won't hesitate to shoot you righ' 'ere and now, ya got it?" No one would be hurting any NCR soldiers, not with Sabin on the case.

'Kid.' Dallas said, lifting himself up. He walked over to Sabin, and placed a hand on his shoulder. 'Just stop.' He said sternly, his cold blue eyes staring directly down at Sabin. 'You're making a complete fucking ass of yourself. Just let him be.' He looked at Javier, giving a nod. 'Maybe he won't kill and NCR trooper.' Dallas said, taking his hand of his shoulder. He turned around and walked back to the wall he was leaning on, placing his back on it. Sure, Sabin was just a teenager. But he was acting like a child. This wasn't NCR behaviour, this was childish, arrogant 5 year old behaviour. 'He's going to get himself killed if he acts like this the whole time.' Dallas muttered. He was almost, disappointed in Sabin for what he's saying. He's ashamed that an NCR trooper would act like that.

As Sabin was bombarded by three different people basically telling him to lay off, he turned around to face them. Why the hell were they turning on him, that ass behind him was the one that had threatened to kill NCR soldiers! Sabin voiced just that. "What the hell're you all talkin' abou'? He's the fuck tha' said he wouldn' min' killing a bunch of NCR soldiers! He thinks he's all big and bad, I was jus' tellin' him that 'e wasn't! You all migh' be afraid to stan' up for what ya believe in, but I ain't. I'm jus' 'ere to make sure that no citizen or NCR soldiers are 'urt from any of ya, and that's exactly what I was just doing! I expect better from you all, definitely you!" Sabin would say, pointing his finger towards Dallas, "Shame on ya for not standin' up for your fellow soldiers! I could take all of y'all right now, it ain't nothin'!" Sabin didn't know why they were going against him for standing up for his fellow soldiers, that's his job as a damned soldier.

“Alright, alright, everyone calm the fuck down.” Hayley said, quelling the arguing taking place after the presentation. Tenpenny rolled his eyes and left the room. House’s visage was still plastered on the screen, though no one could be sure if he was actively observing the group or ignoring it completely.

“We got a lotta work to do. First things first--we figure out which line we’re taking. Let’s hash this out.” She said, turning her chair to face the others.

Several hours later…

“Alright. So it’s decided - we’re taking the Green Line. Now, I don’t want any more discussion on the matter. Mr. House is providing rooms here, though if you do prefer to stay elsewhere, feel free, they’re your caps. You got the morning to do any personal supply shopping. We’re meeting inside H&H Tools at noon. Victor will be there to let you in. We’ll take the trolley from there. You don’t show at noon, you don’t come. Oh, and don’t go fucking around the hotel if you’re stickin’ around, the Securitrons patrol 24/7.” Hayley stood, gave a quick salute, and left the room.

Castillo stood, tipping his hat, and chased after Hayley, leaving the group behind.

“Hayley!” He called out, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Got something I need to talk to you about.”

“Damn it Castillo, I feel like I got weights on my eyes, what?” Hayley asked, exasperated.

“Well...it’s just...our first stop is New Reno. You know, the place that robot pulled me out of? My guess is our little train pulling into town is gonna raise a lot of eyebrows, and once word hits I’m on that train, a few of my not-so-friendly friends are gonna come barking. You may want to hide me in the cabin while you’re there.” He explained.

“That’s not gonna inspire confidence.” Hayley shook her head. “I’m not too intimidated by a bunch of casino thugs and pimps. Our group can handle that. What I am worried about is this group not taking it’s trail boss seriously because he won’t face down a few thugs that want him dead.”

“Might be a bit more than a few…” Castillo said, rubbing the back of his head.

“We have a Nightkin and an NCR Ranger. No one would cross us if it was just us and them. Throw the rest of that lot in and I can’t imagine we’ll have any issues. Buck up, hombre.” She said, giving him a firm punch to the shoulder. “Get some sleep, it’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.”

“Gonna be a long lotta days…” Castillo muttered to no one in particular. Taking his hat off, he retired to his room.

****

Hayley pushed into the Presidential Suite, finding Tenpenny, clothed in a purple and gold robe, scribbling away at a letter under the glow of a small banker’s lamp.

“Couldn’t sleep?” She asked sweetly, the question rhetorical.

Tenpenny had heard her enter, but kept scribbling, hoping to fool the girl into thinking he hadn’t been anxiously waiting for her return. His ruse failed.

“Ah….no, just business. There is no lack of work to be done before we launch tomorrow.” He said, trying to hide his worry.

“Uh huh.” Hayley replied, unconvinced. She took a seat on his desk, tossing her leather jacket over his head. “Your accent can only hide your bullshit for so long.”

Tenpenny tossed the jacket aside, the annoyance on his face subsiding when he noted the smile on Clarke’s.

“I have forged a storied and illustrious fortune on the foundation of imperceivable bullshit, miss, and I do not intend to forgo that skill in the times to come.” Tenpenny replied, grinning.

They shared a laugh, then a hanging, longing stare.

“You’re really leaving.” Tenpenny said, breaking the silence with a note of dejection.

“This was your plan, Sher.” She said. “You know if I could make this work any other way, I would. But you know this doesn’t happen without me.” She slid into the man’s lap, throwing her arms around his neck.

“I know. Logically, I know. It’s just…”

“Hard.” She finished, giving him a gentle kiss.

“It’s a long way. A long, dangerous way.”

“I know. That’s why we put together this team. Nothing drives men - and women - more than money. If keeping me alive means they can booze and gamble and fuck and fight to their hearts content with no worry for repercussion, then you can bet I’ll be coming home to you.” Hayley’s voice was full of confidence. She had pitched this same notion to him a million times before, but every time the man became worried over the trip, she found herself playing salesman once again.

They embraced, sharing a moment of passionate affection.

“You know tonight must be our personal goodbye. We must keep things..calm..tomorrow on the station.” Tenpenny said after breaking a kiss.

“Yeah. Don’t need that lot thinking I’m some poor love sick girl leaving her doting gentleman waving at the station.” She said, standing up, her hands still firmly locked in hers. “So, what say you show me what a personal goodbye looks like?”

Her grin was wicked as she pulled him from the chair, and lead him to their bed.

Sabin said "What the hell're you all talkin' abou'? He's the fuck tha' said he wouldn' min' killing a bunch of NCR soldiers! He thinks he's all big and bad, I was jus' tellin' him that 'e wasn't! You all migh' be afraid to stan' up for what ya believe in, but I ain't. I'm jus' 'ere to make sure that no citizen or NCR soldiers are 'urt from any of ya, and that's exactly what I was just doing! I expect better from you all, definitely you!"

Poe made a motion with his eyebrows, indicating the unseen roll of his eyes under his opaque goggles. From almost the moment he had pissed his pants to now, the NCR Trooper had seemingly done absolutely nothing but bitch and moan, and quite frankly Poe was already two cut-off confrontations past his daily tolerance for violence abstinence. With his back to Sabin, Poe calmly drew his plasma defender and dialed the emitter power setting down to the lowest level.

Sabin said "Shame on ya for not standin' up for your fellow soldiers! I could take all of y'all right now, it ain't nothin'!"

This was when Poe nonchalantly turned and shot Sabin in the back.

On its lowest emission setting, the defender's plasma bolt had perhaps the intensity of a shot from a laser rifle, and lacked the cohesion to resist dispersion upon contact with most obstructions. The relatively low power and weak cohesiveness of the bolt meant that even Sabin's shoddy NCR double-layered leather 'armor' would prevent the blob of plasma, glowing a dull orange rather than a bright green due to the difference in intensity, from burning a hole straight through his torso.

That didn't mean Sabin was going to get out of the ordeal unscathed, barring some miraculous interception or assisted evasion. Once the bolt made contact, it would undoubtedly burn straight through the leather backplate, with the residual heat burning the fabric of the uniform underneath and in all likelihood, singing a small patch of the young trooper's skin.

"I had already had enough of you the minute you set foot in here, and damned if I know how you even gained admission. I already asked earlier, but I'm gonna ask again: Can somebody please tell me what this complete asshat is doing here?"

As the plasma made contact with the trooper's uniform, it burned through the leather in seconds. Sabin didn't even have a second to react before the plasma had reached his skin, and he howled in pain as his skin started to burn, clawing at his back. What the hell had just happened? Had that goggled wastelander shot him with that damned energy shooter? How could that be, weren't those things supposed to be able to melt a human to goo in seconds? With a start, he realized that the man must of turned the energy output down or something, which means that thing could be much, much more damaging. On his knees now, still reaching at his burning back with one hand, he turned a rage-filled glare towards Poe. Sabin was just about to scream and get violent, when...

AtomicItalian said “Alright, alright, everyone calm the fuck down.” Hayley said, quelling the arguing taking place after the presentation.

And doing something that he hadn't done since he arrived at this wretched place, Sabin bit back his anger and held his tongue. The dirty wastelander would just gain pleasure off of his reply, and possibly an excuse to kill him, and even more he was compromising his mission with these outbursts. He had to control himself before he ruined this for the NCR, they were depending on him. Pulling himself off the ground and wiping himself off, Sabin instead turned his back to Poe and gingerly felt along his back with his hand, feeling the now singed skin through the hole in his uniform. Sooner or later that dirty wastelander scum would pay for this, for all of it. For ruining his uniform, twice, and for all of the humiliation that he had caused Sabin. Revenge was going to be a sweet, sweet thing. But for now, he just needed to hold his tongue.

Dallas listened into what Hayley said.

“Alright. So it’s decided - we’re taking the Green Line. Now, I don’t want any more discussion on the matter. Mr. House is providing rooms here, though if you do prefer to stay elsewhere, feel free, they’re your caps. You got the morning to do any personal supply shopping. We’re meeting inside H&H Tools at noon. Victor will be there to let you in. We’ll take the trolley from there. You don’t show at noon, you don’t come. Oh, and don’t go fucking around the hotel if you’re stickin’ around, the Securitrons patrol 24/7.” Hayley stood, gave a quick salute, and left the room.

Dallas nodded, and lifted himself up from the wall. ‘I appreciate the room. But I have enough caps to spare one at the atomic wrangler.’ He said, walking over to the elevator. He pressed the button. ‘See you at noon.’ He said. The elevator soon opened, and he stepped in.

---

‘That’ll be 30 caps.’ Francine Garrett said, leaning on the bar table that separated her from Dallas. Rummaging around in his pocket, Dallas pulled out a small leather bag. ‘All yours.’ Dallas said, pushing the bag to her. Francine opened the bag, and quickly counted the ‘coins’. She split the money into two piles, one with the 30 caps for the room and 10 others. ‘Here’ Francine said, giving Dallas his 10 caps back. ‘Enjoy your stay.’ She said. Just as she turned around, Dallas perched up from his bar stool. ‘Can I get two packs of smoke with this?’ He asked. ‘Yeah, coming right up.’ Francine replied, soon returning with two cigarette packs. Dallas took them and walked off, leaving the 10 caps behind on the counter.

---

Dallas lay atop his rented bed, staring right at the ceiling fan, which was moving slowly. He held his picture of Caroline in his right hand, his thumb slowly tracing across her face. He felt tired he hadn’t slept in days. His helmet and his revolver lay on the table, his cowboy repeater resting on the side. Dallas soon began to give into sleep, and just like that, he dosed off…

---

Dallas slowly but surely woke up. He lifted his head off the pillow of his bed, and let out a rather large yawn. He lifted himself up, his NCR armor making it hard to do so. But never less, Dallas stood up. He firstly grabbed his weapons, and inspected them. Firstly, his revolver. Dallas gripped it tightly, pointing it down at the floor and up into the air. He luckily had some ammo for this and his repeater, but it wouldn’t be enough at a future point. Dallas didn’t mind, he had his knife with him anyways. Next was his cowboy repeater. Dallas held the thing in his hands. He cocked the gun once, a bullet shell falling out of the gun. He slid the gun into the holster on his back. Finally, Dallas picked his helmet off, sliding onto his head. The lights in the red visor glowed, but kept Dallas’ face concealed. He was ready; he opened the door and walked off.

---

Dallas stood outside the New Vegas Strip, looking at the H&H Tools factory, which was just a head of him. He continued his slow pace towards the building, his hands in his pockets. Soon enough, he noticed the same robot from last night wheeled up to him. ‘Howdy Pardner! Fancy seeing you again!’ The robot said. ‘Well, Follow me!’ He obviously didn’t have time for small chatter as he swerved around and guided Dallas inside of the H&H tool building. Dallas decided to do the polite thing and close the door behind him. Like last night, it seemed he was the first one there.

Zero floated over to Poe. "I am willing to put our past unpleasantness behind us," he said, "as I believe getting the maglev lines working to be in the best interest of all intelligent beings, but if you want to try and hack me again, know this." He wiggled his laser cutter. "This also works as a surgical laser, and it is difficult to use vocal commands without a larynx." With that, he turned off his audio receptors and, watching behind him should the man try anything, floated away to find someplace where he could make a few programming upgrades before he had to meet the others.

---

He hid in an alley, most of his input and output channels offline to prevent others from interacting with him. He knew he would be alerted to any tampering with his components, and still knew his power level, but that was about it. He then created a secondary and tertiary encrypted backup of all of his input and output logs, encrypting them so that they couldn't be accessed without his code. After that, he started searching for any backdoors into his program. Once he found them, he plugged them the best he could. He couldn't plug several of them, including the one Poe used earlier, but he did manage to set up a program that would loop all input/output channels as long as it was active, essentially the same as a human being in a daze, and log the attempt. It wouldn't keep him from being hacked, but it would make hacking him virtually useless.
After that, he reactivated a program from the war designed to look for and stop programs which would harm him or mine data, what they called an anti-virus program, and reactivated his input/output channels. He parsed all of the schematics from the harddrive, and when he was done, went to the store to pick up supplies.
When he was done, he went to the H&H Tool Shop. "Hello, Victor." said Zero. "How are you doing?"
"Just fine, pardner. You can go in any time you want."
Zero "nodded" and went inside.

(Was gonna do the whole thing in one post, but figured I would roll out the start and then finish the rest and post later.)



Waves sloshed against the gravely beach. The foamy roar rising into the wind. Muffling the other sounds in a foamy wash. Stretched out ahead, miles of desolate beach stretched between rocky hills and ruinous thick forests, and the foamy green ocean. Distant clouds bellowed on the horizon dark and looming. The sky itself darkening as the light waned.

The beach itself was whetted stone and graying sand. Pieces of eroded glass twinkled in the dimming moonlight, and shone brighter in the pools of blood as the corpses of shelled, hulking creatures lay slumped all down the water front. Their gray bodies dripping with drying salt-water. Burns, gouges, partial dismemberment. Where the blade had met soft tissue, it had bit.

Sweet Gin stepped over the heavily shelled creatures as she scanned frantically up and down the beach. Her face drawn pale, more so than usual. Her eyes wide and her hair stuck up wildly from the blood caked into it. Hung over her shoulders her tattered merchant's coat clung to life, the burns from Logan not mixed with large gashes that mixed with the android's blood. Her pack hung from a single strap on her shoulders and she stumbled down the beach scanning the dropped bodies with a hand held over her side, blood dripping through her steel fingers.

It had happened so fast. They were not twenty-yards from shore when the rickety raft they rode in shook under them. Water splashed up as these... creatures burst from the frothy green sea grabbing for them with chittering claws. With the insect-like faces and hardened shell they were no beast Sweet Gin had ever seen. Nothing that looked like it should live as tiny clawed arms held onto the wood and their weight threatened to topple the raft whole-sale.

Quick blasts though from Sweet Gin's pistol had made short-work of the initial attackers. Their insect faces exploding inward into a darkened hole of white spastic flesh and gooey green blood.

It wasn't long since that first wave that she and Dinah had been forced ashore. The creatures attacked them violently, without mercy. Like rabid dogs. Dinah had called them Mirelurks. They fit the name.

The raft had capsized somewhere out at sea, spilling them out into the cold waters of the ocean and they were forced to swim to shore, or float as somethings were. Sweet Gin found she could not swim, merely sink as she flailed with clawed hand and foot. It was Dinah's saving presence that had rescued her and dragged her up and close enough to shore they could wade.

Simply getting to land though had not rescued them. To Sweet Gin's terror the monsters could walk. Well in fact, terrifyingly well. Like a man whose back was one massive shell, solid like steel. With Dinah's golf-club and a revolver from Springville they had fought off the swarm. But it had been in that fight the two got separated. And now Sweet Gin was in a panic as she combed over the field looking for her.

She had no bullets left for her pistol, and her rifle. She didn't even know if it had hit anything. It had been fired from the hip. She wondered if hope was enough to carry high-caliber rounds to something.

“DINAH!” Sweet Gin screamed, trying to keep herself drowning in fearful tears as she scanned over the beach. She shot feverish looks to the sea. Nothing arose from its tides. It swelled in its own nature and stewed up a salty and sulfuric brine that it consumed as soon as it was vomited up.

Sweet Gin staggered over the body of one of the creatures they had laid to waste. Sweet Gin looked down at it in grotesque fear. It was more a man in shape than the others, complete with long clawed and webbed fingers. Its beady black eyes starred up to the stormy sky with a blank expression, its head split clear down the middle from the impact of a golf club no doubt. Its brains and blood spilled out into the sand from its opened skull. Already flies were beginning to swarm around the now vacant cavity of its head.

“Dinah!” Sweet Gin called again, more meek. Her throat was soar. She brushed her hand up and down her arms. Hardened claws had dented – and even cracked – the metal casing in a number of places. It was a wonder they still worked. A testament to the Institute no doubt, no matter how sour it made the android.

Scrambling over a wider array of split and broken creatures, their shells split open or faces smashed in she grew weak in her fear that her companion had been dragged to sea. She chewed on her lip as she wove between the patch-work bodies, over brass shell casings and splattered pools of multicolored blood in the pebbles and sand.

“D-Dinah...” she said weakly as she turned about, looking out to sea. Hoping morbidly to at least see a body floating in the froth. She felt dry at the fear she was lost already. “Di-” she went to say again, but her panic shot up her spine and froze her as she heard a weak cough from behind.

She rose her sword, turning sharply in the sand to the noise. Her breath hung on her lips as she readied to be swept to the sand with a hard cross hook from a massive claw. But what she found instead was the limp body of Dinah leaning against the rocks of the hill side. At her side her golf club lay in the sand bent and twisted in a hundred places. Blood dripped down from her forehead down her leathery, aged face.

“I be done'm good.” she coughed weakly, smiling as she lay against the stones.

“D-dinah.” Sweet Gin stuttered, feeling tears, “You'r-”

“I done know, I done know.” Dinah laughed, “Be shttin' me, I done d'ink I be hurt like d'is before. But I took-a lot of da fucks out. Deh all dead now, sweetie.”

Sweet Gin ran over to her side, falling on her knees as she leaned over her. Her dark skin was caked over in blood, it was hard to tell where her's flowed and other blood splatter. Dark bruises lingered just under her coffee flesh.

“I-I, we c-, I can fix this...” Sweet Gin muttered.

“Like fuck'n shit you can.” Dinah laughed weakly, resigned, “You be a sweet girl Gin, but I don' d'ink you know how to patch me up any'ding.”

“Then... Then...” Sweet Gin said softly, looking up and around. Down the beaches, into the hills... “I'll find someone!” she said insistently.

“Like who?” Dinah asked.

Sweet Gin breathed deep. She wondered who exactly as she looked up over the hills, inland. Rising out over them the softly rolling hills marched on, north-west to south-east. And on the perch of one of the tallest she had her idea.

“There...” she said, nodding to the hills. Sitting atop a building stood, illuminated with bright golden yellows and oranges against the dark stormy sea. Spires rose out of the building. “Maybe someone there can fix you.”

“I can'a see it.” Dinah said. She grimaced as she tried to turn.

“I'll carry you. I'll find someone there. You'll be fixed. Just, just bare with me.”

“Shit, I shoulda got Med-X.” she groaned as she allowed the android to pick her up. The pain that shot through her was strong, and she groaned in protest. Somewhere on the edge of a scream.

Hoisted over the young android's shoulder she went up the hill. Deep down she felt it'd go poorly. But maybe like so many things it'd be a quick death. For the two of them. Illuminated houses were never good in her experience...

He'd never slept in such a fancy bed before, Sabin decided. He was used to the crowded barracks of the NCR, not a personal hotel room. It felt weird, actually, sleeping in a room absent of the bustle of other NCR soldiers, and Sabin found it rather unsettling. Even with the heavenly bed he laid staring up at the ceiling most of the night, unable to sleep. At least it was free, and at least he would only be there for one night. Not until the wee hours of the morning did Sabin manage to fall asleep.

Sabin woke with a jolt, feeling a cold, metal object prod into him. He stiffened, expecting to see the barrel of a gun pressed up against him, but sighed when he realized it was only one of House's Securitrons come to wake him in the early morning. He'd only gotten a couple hours of sleep, and he was exhausted. "Jus' a few more minutes, alrigh'? I'll be up in a sec'..." Sabin said groggily, closing his eyes again. Before he knew it the world had flipped and he was lying face down on the floor, the mattress on top of him. The damned robot had flipped him over! Groaning, Sabin pushed the mattress off his body and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, wondering if he'd get in trouble for shooting the robot. Oh well, he'd of slept well past noon if the robot had let him, and with that Sabin put on his coat on that wasn't burned and his pants on that weren't soiled. Tying up his boots, Sabin exited the room.

Sabin didn't necessarily need to pick anything up before the meeting, as the NCR had supplied him with most that he needed. The NCR did give him a good amount of caps for personal needs, and he reckoned a nice bottle of scotch was a personal need. The casinos in Vegas were known for their ridiculously overblown prices, so Sabin made his way over to the Atomic Wrangler in Freeside and grabbed himself a warm bottle of scotch and a bottle of nuka-cola. Wrapping them up in the burned uniform that he hadn't taken the time to patch up yet, he stored the two bottles in his backpack and went on his way. One of these nights, he'd treat himself with those things. That'd be nice.

Approaching the H&H Tools building, Sabin was greeted by the securitron too. Deciding not to listen to its blabber, he walked straight past it and into the building. He didn't have much of a liking for those suckers ever since the one had flipped his mattress this morning, and he'd never trusted any of those contraptions in the first place. Making his way in, Sabin would settle against a wall and await the rest of the arrivals, very much hoping that the goggled wastelander from yesterday would fail to show up.

"Oh fuck you Ellie!" She yelled over to the woman who told her to give Sabin some head. With Sabin freaking out, she didn't want to play games, just incase the young NRC trooper actually decided to turn against any of them and fight. With only one good arm, she was limited in what she actually could do. As Sabin started yelling about tzking the three of them on, the unthinkable did happen, and she jumped back a foot or two as the plasma burt into the troopers armor. "Oh what the hell!?" She looked to the shooter with a hand on her pistol. "As if he didn't have enough to complain about!" But to her surprise, Sabin hadn't complained as the bosses started talking and telling them the meting place.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was a long night, sleep came and went all through the night. One thing Rebecca wasnt use to was luxury, and house gave that to her with such a nice hotel room. She tossed and turned in the bed, unable to get comfortable. “This place sucks..” She muttered to her self. Climbing out of bed she got dressed in all her gear and soon found her self sleeping with all of her things in a chair, in the main lobby. After moving to the lobby and finding a hard chair to sleep in, she passed out for the night.

One of houses robots woke her up in the lobby. It felt to early to really be up. Taking a few moments to stretch out and grab her bag, she finally set out the front doors of the 38. She was right, early hours in the morning. “God damn robot..” With a sigh, she set to wander around Vegas for a few hours. After walking around, she found her self back in freeside, but this time with her good hand on her pistol. Making it into the local general store, she nodded and greeted Mick. And his brother. “Gonna be gone along time.. Better get a few things..” She thought to her self. Rebecca ended up buying a few magazines, refilled her personal med-kit and even picked up a bottle of whiskey Tucking her things away, she made way for the H&H.

Rebecca walked up and was greeted by the creepy cowboy robot. “Well hey there partner! Some of the others are waiting for ya inside.” She shuttered and walked inside while mumbling a single “Thanks” She went inside and sat in the main room where the others had gathered already.

The Strip

Javier left the Lucky 38, he seemed to move to Freeside, not minding the incident occurring in the Lucky 38. Javier walked out of the gate to Freeside, breathing in the new air.

Freeside South Gate

Javier moved away from the strip’s gate and headed towards the Atomic Wrangler, to first rent a room before he made off with any errands.
“ One Room, please”
“30 Caps hun”
“Gotcha”

Javier placed 30 caps onto the table, nodding to the bartender. He moved out of the Wrangler before he looked left and right at the street, heading towards Ralph and Micks.

Javier knew Ralph and Mick personally, he played a few hands of caravan with them, and had a few drinks at the wrangler with them from time to time. He went inside of the store , smelling the interior of the store before looking to Mick.

“Welcome pal! Whatcha need?” asked Mick
“Got any energy ammo?” asked Javier
“Yea, sure surplus or that overcharged shit” replied Ralph, smirking has he brought a box of various energy cells
“ Heh’ overcharged and uh the usual discount” said Javier
“Yea , yea” said Mick dismally
“How many?” asked Ralph
“ 10 , make sure they ain’t shitty like last time” stated Javier
“Yea yea” said Ralph, putting the ten cells on the counter

Javier placed a total of 300 caps onto the counter, nodding to them, he grabbed the cells has he left the store. Javier then went back to the Wrangler, had a few drinks and a rather uneventful night before retiring of to bed
=======
Next Morning

Javier woke up at 9AM, he got off the bed before he looked left and right of his room, the wrangler being calm for once. Javier went down to grab a drink, a small bottle of whiskey, he nodding to the female bartender before he left the Wrangler, for good.

Javier preceded down to the tool factory, with the bottle in his hand, he walked there in a steady pace, before arriving in the main lobby by 11:15 AM

Ellie slowly sits up, sheets falling off of her as she groggily looks around. Her head felt like she had gotten the shit kicked out of her... Horrible cottonmouth causing her to smack her tongue repeatedly as she tries to figure out what was going on... It was pretty obvious she was in a bedroom of some sort... Clothes scattered over the floor, a few bookshelves, a dresser It wasn't her tent back at the mormon fort, which brought up the questions -How the fuck did I get here?-

Although the room seemed pretty run down, it seemed whoever lived here at least tried to maintain it and they seemed to have rather odd tastes. The jukebox in the corner was, thankfully, silent and there was a pool table over in the one corner. Why the hell would somebody have a POOL TABLE in their bedroom? Every detail made this seem like even more of a fuck up. The mattress she was laying on felt ancient, even though the sheets were actually pretty nice. She could feel almost every spring in it stabbing into her bare ass... Wait... Bare ass? She looks adown at herself and frowns.

"The fuck did I do.." she grumbles as she realizes she was missing her clothes... Which of course is never a good thing when she can't remember the night before. Sighing she stands, not even bothering to cover up and instantly regrets the decision. Fireworks go off in her head as she stumbles, clutching at her head "ttssssss.... FUCK" she hisses as she rubs her temples, "How much did I drink last night?" she wonders out loud as she tries to blink the spots out of her eyes. Her entire body was sore, she wasn't sure if that was from the booze that she could now smell practically radiating off of herself or the questionable acts she assumes had happened last night... Waking up naked in some strange bedroom... something obviously had happened.

A half-assed grin cracks across her face as she sees her holster sitting beside the bed. Even completely shit faced she still knew what she was doing. After picking up her weapon she limps around the room, slowly picking her way through the piles of old clothing, collecting the pieces that belonged to her.

"Well well, look who's awake." A soft voice laughs from the doorway, "You sure were impressive"

With a roll of her eyes Ellie glances at the door, "I'm better sober..." she grunts at the blonde in the doorway, "Where the fuck am I and what did I do?"

The woman giggles as she steps it "You're in the home of The Kings." she explains as she sprawls out on the bed, "And you did a LOT." she teases, "Must say it was a fuuuun night and you're welcome back aaany time you want." she says with a grin and a wink. "The King really enjoyed your company, and you have one hell of a singing voice too."

Ellie just rolled her eyes as she picked up the last of her clothes, "You guys have running water?" she asks, the girl nodded, "Where's your bathroom?"

"Right down the hall and to the left" And with that Ellie just walked right out.

---

After a quick shower she got dressed and hauled ass, stealing a pair of sunglasses on her way out. A quick inventory showed she had everything from the night before... but she was a little light on her personal caps... She had never gotten around to counting the stolen cap pouch, and it was still tucked in an inside pocket of her coat... Her personal pouch only had about 275 caps left in it.. The fuck did she waste over 100 caps on? ah well... didn't really matter... She could always skimp an extra hundred off of the change from the supplies fund...

With a sigh, she just set off. Her first stop that morning was the little odds and ends shop near Freeside's East gate. She grabbed some odds and ends she was missing from her med kit (Braces, extra tubing, etc. etc.) and a jet black baseball cap. Her second stop was a quick run over to the mormon fort, tying up some loose ends, thanking Julie and throwing a hundred caps from the supply funds to her as a thank you before heading off.

She made two more stops before heading to the meeting place, one at the Gun Runner's facility to get some more ammo, the other at the New Vegas Medical Clinic to stock up on Med-X, Stimpacks, and a couple boxes of Fixer just in case.

Just as the sun began to near it's peak in the sky Ellie finally arrived at H&H, and the first thing she noticed, was that fucking cowboy-bot.

"Well howdy partner! Yer' right on time! Was kinda gettin worried you wouldn't make it. Just go ahead and head on inside."

Scrap was simple but he wasn't stupid.

While the offer of a room at the 38 was a more tempting offer than the Fort's storage room, it was obviously more of a formality than an invitation. With a final wave to Haylee, Scrap hoisted his junk and made the trek back through Freeside. Though most of his time was split between his repair work at the irrigation fields and following tech leachs for Joolie in the surrounding wasteland, this had been the most time he'd spent among the locals since his arrival years ago. Some were still uneasy with his presence though most remained civil once Haylee took him on as a apprentice.

More of a foreman than a mechanic at the time, Haylee would sometimes stop to check the pumps on her way to see Tenpenny which left the workers to their own devices most times. Spot fixes and improvised patches were commonplace as the young woman found more and more reasons to meet with their benevolent benefactor until finally she stopped showing up all together. As the originator of several dozen fixes during Haylee's steady decline in attendance, Scrap became the defacto "Head Engineer" a title that cemented his tenuous place in Freeside.

"Yo Scrap, what the fuck're you doin' out here? Julie said you was gone to that prick House's place!" Miguel called to Scrap from the aqueduct manifold, startling him from his thoughts; it seemed rather than marching him home to the Fort, Scrap's distracted gait had led him back to the fields. "Fuck it, it ain't important right now, come look at these pipes a sec'." His confusion fading to resolve, Scrap nodded and followed Miguel to the controls. "Piece a'shit's backed up again, we got no water goin' the crops. I don't know how you Muties do and frankly I don't wanna, but without food and water and humans ain't but shit. Dead man, Dead." Exasperated, Miguel sighed and turned to Scrap making sure he understood the importance of their conversation.

Scrap finally spoke. "Need find water chip?"

"What? No, the fuck even is that? No, no we got rats in the pipes man! every goddamn year the same shit! Dumb sonsabitches try to escape the heat, end up gettin' stuck and WE'RE the fuckers gotta take 'em out. Problem is, this year's gift of the Wastes is the fuckin' rat king himself; motherfucker is too big for us to fish out without breaking the pipe. I know you fix this shit for a livin' but these Old World pipelines ain't exactly easy to piece back together, you get me? We still got water runnin' to Freeside for now and managed to unbolt the surrounding pipe but if we don't get the pressure back up soon, shit's fucked."

Scrap thought a moment pulling a bit of surgical tubing from his hoard and holding it to his head not unlike a telephone. "What you think Scrap should do, Brother Pipe? No, we not hurt him. No. No, no break pipe, that why we ask you! Yes. Yes. Hmm..."

To anyone else this might seem an odd display but having worked with Scrap for some time he had seen many times just how useful the method behind his strange friend's madness could be. "Ask him how long this'll take, we ain't got a shitton a'time here Scrap."

"Shhh, Brother Pipe talking. Him say, give Scrap bobby pin." Eager to get things back up and running, Miguel obliged. "Good. Now him say, step back." Again, Miguel obliged. "Good. Now watch Scrap." Without waiting for confirmation, Scrap placed the tubing between his teeth and dropped the bobby pin through the other side. Taking a deep breath, he blow into the tubing sending the bobby pin sailing across the room. "Uahhua!" Scrap cheered, the tubing still between his teeth. Releasing it to his hand, he turned to Miguel confidently. "Scrap can fix pipe now."

The next few minutes passed quickly as Scrap laced several lengths of surgical tubing through an pressure cooker from his satchel. Be turning the pressure back on itself with the tubing he could amplify it through the small steam valve very quickly though he would need a way to secure it to the pipe. With a final bit of effort, Scrap yanked the head from a plunger and affixed it to the nozzle providing a decent enough seal to deem it functional. Without a word, the two men made their way further into the fields to collect the severed portion of pipe. Dragging it clear of the outskirts, Scrap attached the device via the plunger head and turned on the pressure cooker. After a few seconds the pressure began to build and soon enough, POP! The fetid carcass flew out of the pipe and back into the Wastes. It wasn't pretty, but it worked. As Miguel sighed a breath of relief, Scrap unfastened and began dismantling the pneumatic plunger. "Shit, that just might have been the most beautiful, disgusting fuckin' thing I've ever seen. Keep this between us, huh Scrap? Don't need Julie complaining the crops taste like vermin." Scrap nodded as he removed the last bit of surgical tubing and returned everything to his satchel.

"Scrap keep secret but you do Scrap favor. Tell Joolie Scrap leaving. Haylee's idea. She will know." With that, he shouldered his junk and left for the rendezvous point.
_____________________________________________
As Scrap approached the H&H building, he feared he probably should have checked in with Joolie himself before he departed but it was already midday by the time he and Miguel had fixed the irrigation network. If he hadn't stopped to help, there would be no crops. Besides, he had work to do. Joolie would understand. He hoped.

"Well hey there, Hoss! Nice t'see ya'gain!" The cowboy robot stopped a moment. "Er, maybe a poor choice a'words for your ilk...why-ownt-ch'all just step inside?"

Mr. Zero said "This also works as a surgical laser, and it is difficult to use vocal commands without a larynx."

"This." Poe said in an utter deadpan as he hefted his plasma defender to point it at the ceiling. "Also works as an industrial metal smelter. And it is difficult to make threats when you are very clearly not designed for combat, Mr. Dummy." He gave the robot an easy smile as it drifted away, meeting its rear-facing optical sensor his very best eerie leer through his goggles. Once it was out of sight, he frowned.

"And I don't have to beg to make you dance." He stowed his plasma defender back inside his coat, and then approached the windows of the penthouse suite to look down at the city below. No longer set to 100% opacity, the polarized glass once again provided a splendid view. Peering down, his eyes skimmed over the brilliantly lit casinos. He didn't have any interest in them. His eyes likewise skipped past the NCR embassy and settled on a large, warehouse structure. There was a neon-light sign over the entrance, but he was too distant to make the letters out. It wasn't a casino though, he could tell from the conspicuous lack of people coming and going. He didn't know what the place was, but it was still a preware warehouse complex. Even if it had been scavenged over and occupied, there was always something he could repurpose there. One way or another.

As he gazed down at the warehouse, his thoughts drifted back to Mr. Zero again. After thinking for a moment, he tapped at the polarized glass, a smile stretching across his face again as an idea came to him.

"I need a camera." He announced to nobody in particular.

888888888888

Michael Angelo's Workshop

Poe stepped into the quiet workshop and scowled. The main floor was neat and tidy with not so much as a bent tin can in sight. Descending the short flight of stairs onto the main floor, he approached one of the few machines present and examined it for a moment. There was a series of glass rods stacked neatly on a side-bench, and the machine itself appeared to be a jury-rigged - if neatly and cleanly so - assembly of three furnaces, all powered by the same portable generator. There was also a diverse selection of tools carefully arraigned in a leather case on the side-bench along with the glass, including oddities such as a paddle, a house, a pick, and a tiny set of shears. The machine was a lampworking station. To the sides of the main workshop floor were a series of neon signs stacked against the walls - this place was used to produce the brilliant neon signs about New Vegas.

"Can I help you?"

Poe turned his head and glanced at Michael Angelo's apprentice. He was growing old, but the lights of New Vegas had to burn bright. She was a young, plain-looking brunette, and although they had almost nothing in common Poe momentarily mistook her for Hirune due to the shape of her cheeks. He shook the image away almost immediately and turned fully to appraise her.

"How much to use the station?" He asked. The apprentice frowned.

"What are you going to use it for?" She asked, cautiously.

"Nothing big." Poe said, thinking ahead of her objections. "I don't need more than two rods. And I know how to work glass, I won't make a mess."

The apprentice quickly subtracted her mentor's disapproval from X where X equaled profit until she reached an agreeable amount. "600 caps." She announced, partly piqued and determined to see this wastelander out of the workshop. She may have been more lax than Michael Angelo, but she still wasn't eager to let just anyone use the lampworking station.

Poe didn't even consider haggling. It just wasn't in his nature. Barter meant the same as homicide to him, but he could also tell that she would be missed if he killed her. All the Casinos would be furious with him, even if the group returned from the trip successful. Still, 600 caps was a bit much. He didn't really have the patience to argue with her, and he hadn't even brought up that he was going to use rarefied gas yet, which would surely drive the price up even more. He decided to resort to something he was good at other than violence: Intimidation.

"Do the casinos know that your cathode vacuum lights are emitting Röntgen radiation?" He asked. In truth he had only seen one sign that looked like it had been using a reconfigured X-Ray tube, but all production work was the same in the wasteland. People used what was available. It looked like he had hit his mark with the guess too - the assistant was briefly taken aback before assuming a careful poker face.

"I'm not sure what you mean." She answered simply.

"WHAT I MEAN..." Poe announced dramatically, waving a hand through the air as though gesturing to an invisible audience with his voice raised, "IS THAT YOUR NEON SIGNS ARE EMITTING IONIZING RADIATION STRONG ENOUGH TO ACT AS A CARCINOGENIC INFLUENCE WITHOUT REGISTERING ON GEIG-"

"Shut up, shut up!" The assistant hissed, looking down at the ground with a strained expression. "I'll let you use the station for the cost of the glass you use. Fifty caps per rod."

"I'm also going to need some of your rares. Where do you keep them stored?"

"We circulate and store them in pressure chambers in that old generator shell over there." She said, gesturing to the large, box-shaped structure right in the middle of the workshop. "What are you going to make, anyway?"

"Oh, you know." Poe said as he turned back to the lampworking station. "Just a late night art project."

888888888888

The assistant woke up in the middle of the night - there was something different in the air, although she couldn't quite place her finger on it.

Then the blueprints for one of Angelo's new billboard schematics floated through the air seemingly under its own power and glued itself to her face. When she pulled it away, her hair clung to it. Looking out from the bedroom door into the workshop, she could see purple light...

Heading out onto the workfloor, she saw the wastelander from earlier and his proclaimed late night art project. It looked to her like a simple plasma globe - impressive to anybody who didn't know anything about vacuum physics, but otherwise something equivalent to a parlor trick. Except this was something else - it was perhaps twice the size of a man's head, and the central electrode had a visible stream of excited gas swirling around it, as though something were stirring the internal mixture of gasses. Extending out from the base of the globe was a series of exposed filaments branching out in the air, each visibly visibly showering the air with small sparks, like a number of small fireworks going off. Throughout the entire workshop, scraps of paper and poster fluff was swirling around as though caught up in a dust-devil as they circulated through an invisible wind centered around the globe. The wastelander sat on the floor next to the globe's base, thoughtfully gazing into it with his hair stuck on end and with his entire body being consumed by a deluge of sparks.

What struck the assistant the most was how silent the entire spectacle was. The fiercely careening paper and scraps created a constant, fluttering, ruffling sound - and that was nearly it. The globe gave off a powerful hum and the spark-emitting filamet had a gentle hiss, but both were nearly inaudible over the sound of the the paper floating around the room.

"What is that?" She gaped.

"It's an electrohydrodynamic halbach-chambered electrostatic coupling dielectric harmonic oscillator!" Poe called out to her cheerfully. She blinked a couple of times, and then a small poster telling her to holster her weapon at Gomorrah slapped itself across her face.

"A dynamo in the center powered by your generator circulates charged rarefied gas through a number of rotating pressure chambers to generate a dipolar electromagnetic field exhibiting internal halbach negation with axial depressions acting as high potential alternating terminals, wirelessly channeling electrostatic current to freely suspended filaments!"

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a frown of disapproval. "Try again, without the bullshit."

"It sets things on fire." Poe supplied with an eerie grin on his face. The assistant worriedly looked around the workshop, but the decidedly harmless sparks hadn't done anything of the sort. She looked at the wastelander again, annoyed. Poe silently reached down to a sensor module on the side of the base and flipped a switch.

The spark-emitting filaments immediately extinguished themselves, and all of the flying rubbish in the room started to blacken and smoke. Seven seconds later, the workshop floor was filled was clearly smoldering, burning paper, dancing through the air around the globe as they burned. Poe idly flipped the switch again as the assistant cried out in alarm, turning the filaments back on. The flying paper and scraps continued to burn for a few moments before the embers creeping across their surfaces vanished.

Once the assistant had calmed down, she looked at the spark-spewing globe appraisingly. She hadn't understood even a third of what the wastelander had just gibbered at her, but the globe was still an interesting piece of work. He could have sold it to any of the casinos, and they would have put it on a pedestal in the middle of their gambling floors, and thrown in a barrel of now mostly worthless pre-war money to fly around it excitingly just for the thrill. It would have been quite the marvel, going perfectly with the glitz and drama of New Vegas. "How did you make it? You've only been here around seven hours."

"It's just scrap metal and electronics, some fission batteries, two steam gauge assemblies, a few sensor modules and pilot lights, and of course your lampworking station and gas." He continued to smile eerily as he dug out a small bag from his jacket. "Borrowed most of that from your stores, by the way. This should cover it." He tossed the bag to her, and it clinked with caps as she caught it. She was so intrigued by the impossibly cobbled-together globe that she barely even felt that angry over the wastelander stealing her shit to make it. As she examined the device, even through the veil of sparks she could see the seams of the junk he had listed and where he had used what - the scrap metal for the base and stem, the steam gauge assemblies for the electrode, the pilot lights for their filaments and their valves. From his technojargon earlier, the electrode probably doubled as the dynamo he mentioned, and he had likely used the pieces of the assemblies for the moving parts. If he could make that from over-the-counter crap, she wondered what he could have done with real materials.

"What will you do with it?" She asked.

Poe got up from the floor easily, and hefted the previously unseen baseball bat that had been lying on his other side into the air.

"Smash it to pieces." He answered.

The assistant shrieked and cringed in a startled panic as Poe brought the bat down and shattered the glass globe, bending the central electrode and knocking it loose from its socket. The air around the electrode seemed to burn for a brief moment as the gasses dissipated, along with the electrical current exciting them. Poe didn't stop - he raised the bat and brought it down again, caving in the base plating made and causing it to rupture at the seams where he had welded everything together with the blow-torch from the lampworking station. He raised the bat again, and again he brought it down like thunder to batter the now unrecognizable mess of metal and glass shards into worthless scrap metal.

The entire room had fallen silent, the burnt remnants of the swirling papers having fallen to the floor as their wind was killed. Poe kicked the ruined remains of his work, sending several pieces to clatter against a support beam for the catwalk overhead. He then turned and headed for the exit.

"That mess won't clean itself, little mote." He called over his shoulder errantly. The assistant, still trembling with shock and confusion, just stared at him as he left.

888888888888

H&H Tools Factory

Poe grumbled to himself halfhearted as he approached the factory, chewing on a few pinyon nuts he had picked up at the Atomic Wrangler. He was now nearly dry for caps, and he had no real raw materials left. A quick search of his travel bag had revealed he was down to just 7 MCF grenades - no more frag or plasma grenades or mines, no tin or pipe bombs, no time bombs, no pulse explosives, no dynamite, no cherry bombs or bottlecap mines, no molotovs or other incinderaries, no rig-clusters, and he had somehow managed to misplace his detonator. He distinctly remembered leaving Kansas City with plenty of everything, and while he supposed he had made good use of a few individual pieces here and there along the way he couldn't quite believe it was all gone. That left him with the thankfully still plentiful ammunition for his 40mm grenade launcher and plasma defender, but the only real high-yield demolition, excavation and doombringing tool he had left to his name was the single Nuka Grenade buried at the very bottom of his pack. He had spent nearly all of his remaining caps on food and drink at the Wranger, and so now he had basically nothing.

'Todo: Make a shopping list for the bullet catchers.' He thought grimly as he leered at Victor.

"Howdy there par-"

"Stuff it, mote." Poe issued, walking right by Victor and heading inside. Seeing that several others had already arrived, he scanned them for familiar faces - the Mr. Dummy robot and the NCR sprat were the only real ones that registered. They were his main priorities, and until otherwise proven the rest were just coffin stuffing.

"Hey little Mote." Poe gave a rictus grin to Sabin. "So is that outfit the one you pissed in or the one I shot a hole in?"