---

---

The infernal heat bore down as dusk crept over the extended line of 200 or so men. Their cotton and linens were long-since soaked in sweat and the encroaching darkness bode well for them, if not because camp would be made soon. Though most of the ragged company hung low on their horses, only strapped in by the grace of their stirrups, the flag they waved bore high, the bearer at near-exhaustion as the shaft was hoisted each step, bright blue flag with a single star on its face and gold braid on its borders fluttering in the dry wind.

The head of the column was staffed by those most senior, among them Xavier Connor, the lithe Franklinian ambassador to the Far West. He bore a formal suit one would consider of pre-War fashion, with the suit coat hanging off his mount and his vest and undershirt exposed. He glanced at his pocket watch lazily, horse plodding along. He glanced up to the man at his side, still stiff in the saddle. Captain Aldebert Riley, First Rangering Company, commanding. An older gentleman with thick scraggly beard, he wore a plain red plaid shirt and cotton trousers, suspenders attached. His head sported a tan slouch hat, and his hip a Colt SAA.

"Say, Captain?" Connor rasped in a dry and drought tone. The Captain regarded him with a nod, shifting his gaze over. "When shall we make camp? And, uh, may add, where?" The politician inquired, gentlemanly accent in play. The Captain nodded, replying in his own low and gravelly tone. "In due time, Mr. Connor." He paused, extending a hand, index finger erect. He pointed to monstrous hills at their front, a valley and railroad tracks running between. "If'n my intelligence should be correct, that there is Sloan Canyon. Up'n to the left a tad, right.." He shifted the finger and arm left. "Over yonder is New Vegas. Scouts be tellin' me that the casino-spire the locals call the 'Lucky 38' is visible just behind th' hills around Sloan. We make camp in view of the 38 spire, just outside th' slums I'm told litter the place."

This evokes a surprised expression and exasperated sigh from the good ambassador, who pockets his watch and looks ahead. The horses plod on, the lonesome clopping and distant coughing being all that sounds as the sun straddles the horizon.

And the Captain speaks, voice now booming as he communicates to his men. "We make camp at halt! Now quickly, before we must ride by moon! At the double quick.." He pauses, the order moving down the line by Lieutenant to each platoon. "MARCH!" Riley whoops, spurring his own horse as the order moves down the line, and the horses move at double the pace, quick trot as they force ride to camp.

---

---

The hard ride proved well-timed, for they made the journey in half the time. The First Sergeant returned from the rear to proclaim camp, his bugle blaring one of many calls learned, namely the 'Call to Quarters'.

Men dismounted en-mass, driving stakes into the earth and tying their horses. Blanket-bags, tents, stakes, and wire all in jumbles as camp was made. Enlistedmen camped in twos, in a small tent of which each possessed a half for, their Lieutenants camping in larger tents of themselves only. Finally was the tents of command, of which in one slept the Captain and his First Sergeant, in the next, the Ambassador and his aide.

Finally, into the center of the camp, a large modular metal pole was erected, and a large flag of Franklin hoisted high. The sun was long gone now, and the men had no sooner made their fires before 'Taps' was played. The call to extinguish. The men doused the fires and retired to their tents by light of lantern, which soon extinguished as well. All was dark and silent as they closed for the night.

High Elder Gladstone

"Indeed, It was welcome, but a surprise nonetheless"

Barnaky paused after his reply, as if considering his own words.

"I had feared we could never overcome the circumstances of our departure, I'll be pleased if that turns out to be wrong. I must apologise for the robot, but I've learned over the years that it's easier to interact with others remotely via one of these constructs than through a monitor or set of speakers"

Another pause.

"and my current physical condition is quite disturbing to most to behold."

Atticus nodded as a reply. There wasn't really much one could say following that last remark. At least not without any reply being possibly construed as an insult. Such a thing was to be avoided and so, the High Elder remained silent.

Gladstone refocused his attention on the host, as Barnaky gestured to one of the seats at the table.

"Please, be seated"

Another pause, perhaps a communication lag? Atticus stowed the thoughts away and concentrated on the task at hand.

"we have much to discuss. I must warn you before we begin, however, that we are most likely under surveillance at this very moment."

"Indeed." Atticus added as a word of agreement with the, cyborg.

"If this meeting goes well, we can arrange for follow-up talks in a more, ahem, secure location."

Barnaky then offered the High Elder a drink, proposing to serve it himself. Atticus held up his hand in polite refusal to the offer and served the drink himself, such courtesy was appreciated, but not necessary.

"Now then, High Elder", Barnaky said as he settled back into his chair, "Let us discuss your proposal, I'm eager to hear it."

Sitting in his own chair, Atticus paused to sip his drink and gather his thoughts before replying.

"My proposal Lord-Paladin, is simple. Whilst we have been too far apart for too long, both in distance and in time, as well as the diverging circumstances that have made our respective entities evolve, my hope that we can reconcile to as warm a degree as possible. To that end, I would suggest an accord, of trade and non-aggression, with further clauses acknowledging the shared heritage of our polities establishing embassies for political reconciliation."

Pausing to take a breath, Atticus continued his proposal.

"Following that, I'd then suggest perhaps an exchange of culture and suchlike, with the hopes of overcoming the ingrained differences between our groups, and finally an alliance."

Falling silent, Gladstone sipped his drink, and waited for a reply with cautious trepidation.

Rough Riders- New Vegas, Nevada

“Let me be very clear with you Ms. Jackson. You’re an intelligent woman so I expect you to understand the gravity of the situation.” The agent declined the offer of wine and instead retrieved a pack of cigarettes from her waistband, upon lighting one the acrid smell began to fill the room. “I hope you don’t mind. I don’t drink, and I only occasionally indulge myself with the sinful delight of a cigarette.” She shuddered slightly as drew a long puff on the cigarette as if she’d been longing for it for quite awhile. Although she acted proper, something did seem to be off about her, but it was hard to pinpoint what that was. She was quite the character. She was cold and professional for sure and seemed quite knowledgable about the world around her but one couldn’t help but feel like she was hiding something, like all of this was a show.

“I’m sorry Ms. Jackson. I didn’t mean to get distracted from the task at hand.” Quickly composing herself she laid the cigarette down in a nearby ashtray and continued as if nothing was out of place. “You’ll needn’t have to concern yourself with Robert House. Have Calypso contact him and request a change of accommodations if she would like. But one thing I would wholeheartedly suggest is a personal security detail. You came here for peace and diplomacy, for that you’ve earned a great bit of respect from myself and the outfit I represent. Although I hate to admit that war and violence is at all of our doorsteps, and you’ll want to make sure you have the right people standing with you when it comes to yours. Like I said for now my services are free, and will continue to be until you return to your home. If you and Calypso would like I can have a security detail here within the hour. All I need is your approval, nothing more.” The woman finished with speaking for the moment then reached for her still smoldering cigarette and pressed it against her lips taking another intense draw before returning it back to the ashtray.

“Fabulous,” gasped Calypso as she clung to Waylon’s arm taking in the sea of neon on The Strip, “This is most inspirational is it not?”

“Yeah, it is pretty impressive.” Waylon sighed as he was drug around by Calypso as she looked at everything. For Christ sakes woman, I just want a beer. He was his normal, emotionless, but acutely aware self as the couple perused what Vegas had to offer. He noted all the NCR soldiers he saw wandering around. Finally Calypso led Waylon to The Gomorrah, Aponi followed closely behind them.

“Do go enjoy yourself Waylon, I shall be fine alone with Aponi this evening,” Calypso turned to Aponi, “Come Darling, I must prepare for my dinner with Martin.” The door man showed them to their room across the hall from Shelby’s with the Securitron standing at guard. Aponi aided Calypso with her hair, putting it in long rolling curls before zipping her dress. Calypso vivaciously turned in the mirror, “I look simply ravishing Darling, simply ravishing.” The dark purple evening dress traced her elegant curves complimenting her long black hair Calypso indulged in her own image. Aponi gave a simple smile and nodded at the compliment.

Calypso retrieved a matching handbag from her luggage, taking the one she had been carrying and handed it to Aponi, placing a substantial amount of caps in it, “Darling you are truly a glorious servant, I wish to show my appreciation,” Calypso closed Aponi’s hands around the handbag, “Do take these caps and enjoy yourself Darling. I give you permission to use my wardrobe if you so choose, I wish for you to do what pleases you this evening.”

Aponi’s mouth opened slightly in disbelief that she was free to choose whatever she wanted for the night, “Th-thank you my Empress.”

“You are dismissed Darling.” Calypso left the room after checking the time. Aponi wished Calypso a good evening, once the door shut Aponi quickly changed into her tunic and moccasins before putting her black hair into a single long braid. She took the small black handbag and made her way out of town. A short distance between her and The Strip quieted the hoots and hollers of the visitors. She sat cross-legged on a boulder and just stared at the stars as they shone brightly in the clear night sky against their pitch black background.



“Welcome to The Topps,” the doorman offered Calypso his hand as her black stilettos clicked up the stairs and he opened the door.

“My dinner date, Brother Martin of the Midwest Brotherhood said we have reservations for 8 P.M.” Calypso informed the host.

The Topp’s host traced his finger down the notepad, “Yes, indeed he does, please, follow me.” He lead Calypso to a tidy table and pulled out the chair, Calypso smiled and sat down, “May I interest you in a beverage Miss?”

“I shall take a scotch on the rocks good sir,” the host left and a waiter quickly delivered the drink and asked if she would like anything else, “Thank you, I shall wait until my date joins me.” The waiter nodded and left Calypso to sip her scotch and people watch as she waited.



The woman waved off the wine, instead pulling a pack of cigarettes from her waistband, to each their own , Shelby shrugged it off. She looked as the woman took a long pull from the cigarette and exhaled allowing the smoke to encircled her head in the lighting of the room. The woman paused, as if she was thinking of something else before catching herself and returning to the conversation. Shelby tapped her finger on the brim of the glass as she listened.

“Okay,” Shelby shook her head, “Let's do it,” she looked at the clock, “Calypso set up a dinner date with Martin from the Brotherhood, let me write a note to her. Your people will have to give it to her otherwise she may quickly go on the defensive.” Shelby took a sip of the white wine the continued, “I still can't guarantee that she won't though,” she giggled a little. Shelby rummaged around for a notepad and pencil and scribbled down a note, while she was writing she couldn't help but ask, “You seem a little tense, nervous maybe the way you took to that smoke. This is no threat, but if you have something up your sleeve the shit could hit the fan… just sayin’”

Taking another sip and savoring the flavor for a second before she handed the woman the note, “I did notice a lot of those NCR guys running around here, so any extra help if I really pissed that douchebag off would be nice. I mean, Aponi doesn't fight at all, and there's just Waylon and Reggie with us.” Shelby did not immediately let go of the note and stared into the woman's eyes, “I think I can believe you but….you best not try to screw us over. If this pans out, I'm sure we can do more business in the future.” She finished the glass of wine and sat the empty glass in the table, “I need to wash up, you can join me, hangout for a bit, or set up your people.” Shelby got up and unzipped the back of her dress and let it fall to the floor, “Whatever you decide, I'll leave the door open.”

Striking at Calypso’s Heart- the NCR.

The target, a tribal slave of calypso, the leader of Jade Empire was followed by Ranger team Six as she left the city and made her way to small clearing, sitting on an boulder she began to look up at the starts and was distracted when Team six adducted the woman.

Taken back into an NCR Ranger Safehouse located in the back of small armour shop owned by an semi-retired Ranger she was placed on a comfortable Sofa chair untied but with an Ghoul Ranger pushing her back down every time she attempted to stand. (Not that is matter with several other rangers in the room)

When she awoke the President double was sitting in a chair nearby and offered the woman a drink of water or Nuka cola.

“Hello, we didn’t personally meet earlier but my name is Alex Hornsby, the NCR president’s double and representative at the convention, I’m sorry we had to kidnap you but we did not think you speak to me otherwise... you’re name is Aponi is it not? The personal slave of False Chosen-one Calypso?”

Aponi refused to answer

“That’s fine; you don’t say anything I’m not her to question you about Calypso or her empire, sort of pointless with you being on the opposite of the county anyway... No I wanted to make you an offer, Freedom.”

“You see in the NCR we detest slavery of any and all forms, from super mutant Slave labour to Tribal house or personal servants as youself and I’m proud to state that over the last 80 years the hardworking men and woman of the New California rangers have successfully purged this evil from the lands of the NCR and are now working on eradicating it from the entire nation.”

“This brings us to you... wherevether like to admit it or not you have slave of calypso, perhaps a well treated slave with perks which most people in your area do not have but a slave nonetheless and whilst we cannot at this time help those being pointless sacrificed to Calypso's Made up god back in the jade empire, we can help you...”

“With your permission we would like to help you escape to the NCR, you will be given a housing, food & water, access to education and perhaps most importantly the freedom to live your life how you wish as a free woman.”

“You can of course refuse those offer and return to calypso, the door is right there, the rangers won’t stop you now that you have heard my offer.” Alex stated as he pointed to door “If you do decide to leave however just remember you may be calypso favourite pet today but that will not last...”

“And when you have lost her favour, for whatever reason it may be we will not be able to help you escape from whatever punishment calypso decides to inflict..”

Simon Barnaky - Ultra-Luxe

"Done", House replied with little hesitation. "I have no interest in repeating the mistakes of my deceased contemporaries. If it means that the FZM and Brotherhood of Steel can enjoy a mutually beneficial and stable relationship going forward, I will let you handle the deconstruction of nuclear facilities....That is part of your mission, isn't it?"

"As an Elder in the Brotherhood", Barnaky said firmly. "It is my duty."

"I will not interfere." House said. After a pause, he continued. "We can put this all on paper and I can write up a formal document for your party before it leaves New Vegas. In fact, I'll have it drafted momentarily. Included would be that the your chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel will be allowed sanctuary inside FZM lands, so long as it does not incite any violence within my lands. The FZM will formally occupy The Divide and hand over any ICBM technologies discovered to the Brotherhood. In exchange, the Brotherhood will assist in developing the FZM's future human military and the two parties will together ensure that the NCR does not advance into the east. Satisfactory?"

"It is", Barnaky replied. "Our Staffs will need to meet to work out the details on the size and nature of our Mission to the FZM, of course. It would be helpful to have access to Nellis AFB, and it's military runway and hangar facilities, if that is feasible. We should also exchange Ambassadors, I would be pleased to offer suitable facilities for a Embassy in Omaha. Also, if this is to be a long term Alliance, I think the matter of trade, and establishing reliable rail links between the FZM and the Order's lands should be discussed as well."

As Barnaky waited for House's reply, he considered events thus far. He thought it ironic that much of his success in this conference was likely due to the ineptitude of NCR diplomacy. House, and especially the Western Order, would never have reached out to him...for sound logical reasons on their part, Barnaky had to admit, even though in actuality he had no malevolent intentions towards either of them...if not for the fact that the Kimball's behavior was so threatening it overshadowed the threat they thought he presented.

"As smarter men than I have said", Barnaky thought with amusement, "Never stop your Enemy when he's committing suicide."

The pieces were falling into place....soon the NCR would be locked in chains that it had forged itself. Contained for the foreseeable future, the NCR would either reform or die by it's own hand. And he would at last have a free hand in the East, where the true threat to Humanity festered and grew in the carcass of Pittsburgh. That would change soon enough...he would drag them from the darkness of their lair into the sunlight, so that all the World would see their true nature, and then he would Scourge them from the face of the Earth.

It was his Duty.

Hours later - Audience with the High Elder

"My proposal Lord-Paladin, is simple.", Gladstone said. "Whilst we have been too far apart for too long, both in distance and in time, as well as the diverging circumstances that have made our respective entities evolve, my hope that we can reconcile to as warm a degree as possible. To that end, I would suggest an accord, of trade and non-aggression, with further clauses acknowledging the shared heritage of our polities establishing embassies for political reconciliation."

Pausing to take a breath, Atticus continued his proposal.

"Following that, I'd then suggest perhaps an exchange of culture and suchlike, with the hopes of overcoming the ingrained differences between our groups, and finally an alliance."

Falling silent, Gladstone sipped his drink, and waited for a reply with cautious trepidation.

"We have been apart for far too long, and that estrangement is a luxury that neither of us can afford.", Barnaky replied. While we disagree on a number of things, there are still plenty that we do agree on. We should build on that, and the rest will follow."

"I agree to your proposal, Brother Atticus", Barnaky said as he stood and extended his hand to the High Elder. "Our Orders will face the uncertain future...together once more."

"I will make arrangements to receive a delegation at Omaha", Barnaky continued after sitting back down, "or send one to Electric City if you prefer, to hammer out the details. The first order of business, I think, should be formally re-establishing direct diplomatic relations be exchanging Ambassadors. We'll also need to establish some sort of agreement with the Khans regarding trade routes."

"While we have much to discuss", Barnaky concluded, "I think we have gone about as far as we should...here. Uness you have further concerns that can be safely discussed here, of course."

Mark Johnson - The Aces Theater

Mr Johnson, nattily dressed in a gray business suit, sat at his table, sipping his Ice-Cold Sunset Sarsaparilla while discreetly watched the door. Eventually, he saw one of the two men he was waiting for enter, and after checking in with the Maitre d', approach the table.

"Good afternoon, Mr Renault", Johnson said, extending his hand in a business-friendly manner, "I'm glad you decided to come. Please, have a seat." As Renault took his seat, a waiter appeared, plaingf a menu before each man. Johnson picked his up and studied it casually, "Order what you like, Mr Renault...I've got the check. The New Vegas Strip is excellent." Once orders for dinner and drinks were taken, the waiter departed and left the two men together to engage in small talk until their orders arrived, just as the lights dimmed in preparation for the Rad Pack to begin their show.

"I apologize for the unconventional venue, Mr Renault", Johnson said quietly as the emcee announced the entrance of the Rad Pack performers, to strong applause, "but my superiors thought it might...complicate things for your Company if Brother Martin approached you directly at the conference. Also...all the hotel rooms are wired, I can't really be sure we're secure here for that matter."

"We have a contract offer for your group", Johnson said quietly as he passed Renault a folder, then returned to his mashed potatoes. "Rear-area security, no offensive operations will be involved. Initial term is 90 days, with option to extend as necessary. The AO is sensitive, but we have good relations with the host government and there will be no trouble unless they are provoked. Details are inside." Johnson then watched crypically as Renault studied the documents inside.


Brother Martin - Tops Casino

Brother Martin, dressed in a black business suit with red tie, spent the time before his dinner date with Calypso wandering the casino floor, silently shaking his head in wonderment at the sheer amount of money flowing from the guests to the Casino, and by extension, House. Like most residents of the Order's lands, he lived a simple austere life....while there was certainly gambling back home, the Inquisition or Office of Administration police would step in long before an operation could achieve this kind of scale.

"No wonder they are bankrupt", thought Martin sadly, "this is sheer madness."

Behind him someone cleared his throat. Martin turned to see the Maitre d for the Tops Restaurant.

"Ring a Ding, pally", the Maitre D said in the shtick Tops banter, "Thought I'd come out and let you know....your lady friend just arrived and is seated."

Shocked, Martin checked his wristwatch...which read 1935 (7:35 PM).

"Ex..", Martin began to say before the Maitre D answered the question for him.

"Yes, it's 7:35, Pal", he said with a wink. "You Brotherhood types sure know what you like...no wonder none of you are over at that other place". His momentary grimace made it clear he meant the Gomorrah.

"Thank you, my good sir", Martin said gratefully as he pressed a gold Aureus bearing the image of Lucius into his hand, then made his way towards the restaurant.

"Nice!", said the Maitre D with genuine appreciation as he looked at the tip, then said cheerfully as Martin left "Don't do anything I wouldn't do...Ring a Ding, Baby!"

Entering the restaurant, Martin was ushered to a table at which sat Calypso, who looked stunning in a tailor-made purple evening dress, and curly black hair instead of her usual cornrows.

"Calypso", Marin said as he took her hand and kissed it, then took his seat. "You look simply ravishing!"

Ordering a bourbon and water from the waiter, Martin picked up his menu and opened it, looking up at Calypso.

"Have you ordered yet, my dear?", Martin asked. "I hear the New Vegas Strip is excellent here."

Just being done with her first bites of the Steak, and still surrounded by a crowed of dark bodyguards, who´s suits and hats look at bit out of place with their rebreathers around their necks. Close up, one could see the tattoos luring below the sleeves of their suites, and the ritual scars on their faces, making it quite clear that these men where more then just simple bodyguards, but indeed veteran warriors, hardened in battle, and ready to give their live for the choosen daughter of the blind prophet.

Cutting another piece off the larger Steak, Marie slowly turned her head, and smiled broadly, a smile that seemed surprisingly warm and honest, a strange contrast to her unsettling aura around her. "Well, we are indeed from the Holy City, send here in the name of our Prophet, my high father! But sure, the seat is not taken, and some company would be delightful!"
One of the grim guards tugged on the chair, and made way for North to take a seat, while the eyes of the guards rested on him. Up so close, it was more then obvious that Marie indeed was just fourteen years old, a young girl, send to a meeting with the most powerful men and women of what was left of the united states of America.

Indeed it was a mad world!

Rough Rider’s, New Vegas- Nevada


At the abrupt sight of Shelby undressing the woman bit the corner of her lip as it began to quiver. Feeling the urge for something she knew she had to avoid she began to fumble for another cigarette. Once she managed to retrieve one she stood up from her seat while lighting it. At this point sweat was starting to bead on her body, so she carefully removed her blazer while she holding her cigarette in her mouth and mumbled a response to Shelby. “I hope you don’t mind I’m starting to sweat in this thing. I'm not usually one for suits.” Realizing that she broke character the woman laid her blazer down on the chair she was sitting in and moved over to Shelby's bed, in an attempt to hide her lack of composure from her.

As she sat down along the side of the bed with her upper body hunched over her legs. Her hands were trembling as she ran her fingers through her greasy hair, between each puff of acrid smoke she shook ever so slightly as she rushed to compose herself.

“Ms. Jackson I assure you that we’ve nothing to gain...from offending you or your Empress.” She took another long draw from her cigarette and took a brief moment to try and calm herself, as it was becoming apparent that she was getting anxious. “I’m…”

Unable to continue her sentence as the saliva evaporated from her mouth and her voice cracked, she got up and headed to the suites mini-bar to retrieve a bottle of water. Inside the bar was a vast assortment of beverages, including alcohol and in her addled state she could feel the temptation to grab a bottle alcohol and drown her anxiety. Thankfully part of her mind was still fighting her urge and she quickly snapped out of it and grabbed a frigid bottle of water. At this point in time she was starting to look as if she was loosing her composure. Her nicely tucked button up shirt was starting to untuck itself causing the fabric to billow off of her body except for the spots that were starting to stick from the sweat. Her suspenders were unfastened and found themselves dangling past her waist. Her tie was buried underneath her blazer, at least she thought that's where she left it. Even her nicely slicked hair was coming undone. While it was still tied up in a bun her bangs were starting to fall onto her forehead and the nice precision rows of hair were disrupted by her fingers raking through them.

Even while she drained the bottle of water down her arid throat, she couldn’t find the relief she sought. It felt as if there was a thin layer of mucus lining her throat that prevented it from becoming moist again. Sitting back down, this time alongside the bed with her legs spread apart and her knees raised. She retrieved a small device from her pocket, it was no larger than a pen and could be mistaken for one to the untrained eye. On the end was a raised silver button that when pressed receded into the main cylinder, blinked red twice and then went dark. She put the object back into her pocket and wiped the unstinting sweat from her brow, and unbuttoned the first few layers of her shirt. Exposing her chest to be as drenched as her forehead.

“Oh shit, I didn’t think this was going to happen to me again.” Whispering to herself she focused her eyes on the worn carpet of the suite trying to focus on something else and distract her mind. Still sweating she unbuttoned the cuffs of her shirt and rolled her sleeves up. Unable to seek asylum in her own mind she lit another cigarette. With each puff off the acrid smoke she felt both better and worse. As if part of her thrived from it and the other was destroyed by it. Regardless she began to mumble through the cigarette again. “My people should be here in a few hours Ms. Jackson. I apologize for the delay in their arrival but even a small group of armed guards is going to have some difficulties entering the Strip. I assure you that they'll find a way, they always do.” She had slightly composed herself but she was still trembling and her throat was as arid as the Mojave still making it hard for her to speak. "In the meantime. What do you request of me?"

---

---

The canvas tents were quiet, few awake with fires crackling as the sun peaked over the horizon with its orange-red tinge. 6:45 came soon, and on the dot, the First Sergeant blared the bugle once more, calling 'Reveille', rousing the camp which soon came to life. Men emerged from their tents, packing their blanket bags and re-kindling their fires. They munched on hardtack and heated cans of potted meat and preserved fruits, among other things, as they filled their canteens from the horse-drawn water wagon that followed them all places.

The Captain himself, being so evident, had been up long before the bugle sounded, but had not emerged from his tent, rather now exiting to the sight of the Franklin banner upon its pole, dancing in the rays of light which encroached from the east. The Captain continued, towards one of the fires which housed his adjutant, 1st Lieutenant Nathaniel Hayes, his senior enlisted advisor and bugler, First Sergeant Max Oleary, and his color sergeant, Sergeant Hunter Lund. He bid greeting to them all as he drew a cigar from his pocket. Fine East Tennessee tobacco rolled in fine sun-grown leaves of Maduro shade. Riley bit the end off of the cigar calmly, and rubbed down the wrapper finely. He lit it with the fire quite briskly, waiting for the end to turn cherry red before puffing on the opposing end.

He watched the spire of the Lucky 38 as he smoked, judging its features well, and its visible surroundings additionally. Ambassador Connor approached as well, in absence of a coat and simply wearing a new undershirt and vest connected to his black trousers via suspenders. The two regarded eachother with greetings, and began to converse.

"So what might it be today, Captain?" Connor inquired, with the Captain glancing over with a brow raised, removing the cigar from his lips. "Headin' into Sin City. Might wanna pack your stuff and bring it with ya'." Connor raised a brow in return. "And why might that be?" Connor queried as he looked at the Captain. The Captain replied, but looked on at the spire which stood in the rays of dawn. "You've 'pparently been secured a room at that fancy hotel called the 'Ultra-Luxe'. Penthouse. Real pretty from the sound of it."

"Uh- Well, um- Hm." Connor began, flabbergasted at this apparently unknown detail. "Will you, or your team?" The Captain looked back over. "'Fraid not. We'll escort ya' in, share a few drinks, then mosey on out. Yer security's been ensured by House himself." Connor replied, still apprehensive. "Well.. Alright. I shall be ready within the next half hou-"

"No good." The Captain interjected, puffing on the cigar. "I'll get a few enlistedmen to get it done in ten minutes or so. Horses are bein' saddled as we speak, and we set off at 0700." The Captain added. Connor gazed on, in utter shock, and turned towards his tent which was now occupied by a detail which threw together his belongings at speed, ferrying them to and fro and packing them onto the horse in a manner which was achieved in six minutes flat. All that was left was for Connor to step into his tent and grab his coat, and no sooner than were the stakes of the tent struck down and the canvas and poles packed rather neatly into a tent bag.

Connor fitted the coat abruptly, and began to mount his steed, and the Captain beside him. The two were accompanied by an entourage of two Corporals and five Privates, all strapped down with respective rifles and carbines of varying action and caliber, salvaged pistols strapped upon their hips, and an array of finely crafted sabers and mounting swords strapped into sheathes affixed upon each saddle.

The small column started off and passed a camping group of Privates and Corporal around a fire, of which one had a guitar and leather case which he strummed upon as the exit from the camp was made. Solemn was it, a rendition of a pre-war song- 'Dixie'.

---

---

They made extraordinary time. Through the slums in a matter of minutes and through a brisk check with the securitrons at the gate in equal time. They made the Strip by 7:15 and awed at the towering casinos and hotels. Businesses bustled as their steeds plodded through, grunting and whinnying at the surroundings.

Connor let the Captain take the lead, and rubbernecked the entire route as he spied it all. The Tops, the Lucky 38, Vault 21, the Ultra-Luxe. It was all there, just as it had been described. He was like a child as his eyes grew wide with every neon light. But it was short-lived, as the call to dismount was there soon. The entourage dismounted and walked to the revolving doors of the Ultra-Luxe and entered, relinquishing the sidearms they carried as they did so. The Captain and his men took respective seats and ordered drinks of varying scope and strength.

Connor, meanwhile, approached the receptionist, briskly speaking. "Ah. I am Ambassador Xavier Connor." He remarked, introducing himself. "I am the current representative of the Franklin government for the assemblies and talks that are taking place here." After a brief series of questions and affirmations, Connor gained his room key, and approached the Gourmand to join the Captain, who had already ordered a stout pint of Guiness, with his men drinking other beverages of various alcoholic content.

"Welcome to Vegas." The Captain remarked, trailing off with cigar in opposing hand.

Alaskan Federation

“Prophet?” North asked as he sat down, “We have many who are Prophets, Seers or otherwise claim such titles. None however have their own nations, This Holy land must be a boon to you and your people; allowing your father to stockpile resources and followers.”

Waving down a waiter, he paused. “But enough of that for now, you must have bared witness to the events of the meeting, tell me what are your opinions regarding peace between some of these clearly troubled nations?” As he was given a menu by the masked waiter the White Glove member almost seemed to scoff at the group likely their manner of dress, North only felt the waiter was off when he gave him the laminated menu. Barely perusing the menu he continued. “I’m not familiar enough with the local politics, err foreign I mean. We tend to refer to the former United States as a single entity, the Lower 48s as it were. Even after we split into commonwealths. Hmm,” North said with an audible hum. “They have rather high prices, you’d almost think they were serving Wendigo. Not that I’d expect them to be out here.” North said as he flipped the page. “Can’t go wrong with steak, good tender Brahmin and some Ace 1 sauce.”

Robert House - Lucky 38

"It is", Barnaky replied. "Our Staffs will need to meet to work out the details on the size and nature of our Mission to the FZM, of course. It would be helpful to have access to Nellis AFB, and it's military runway and hangar facilities, if that is feasible. We should also exchange Ambassadors, I would be pleased to offer suitable facilities for a Embassy in Omaha. Also, if this is to be a long term Alliance, I think the matter of trade, and establishing reliable rail links between the FZM and the Order's lands should be discussed as well."

"You would have to take that up with the Boomers, who reside there and operate as the only human military component of the FZM thus far. I rule this territory, but I know better than to make promises on their behalf. You will have to coordinate it with them. I would be glad to equip you with an embassy in my territory. Terms will be drafted on paper and sent to your group momentarily."

House paused his speech to ponder Barnaky's final suggestion. "A rail line between our territories would surely bridge the gap between Midwest-and-west. I believe that such a gesture could be a stepping stone toward re-developing the high technology sector. I accept." He pieced together a set of final words. "Before I draw up an official document, is there anything else?"

Securitron Mk. II - New Vegas

"Ahem..well, anyway," Antony said, clearing his throat, "You said you're a security model. However I don't see any form of armament visible on you. Are you armed similarly to the Protectron then?"

"Securitrons have an array of armaments, but they do not resemble the Rob-Co Protectron. Each unit is equipped with a 9mm submachine gun, a rapid-fire G-28 25mm grenade launcher, M-235 missile launchers, and the X-25 Gatling laser system."

"Do you have any other questions?"

Vault 21 - Arctic Haven Quarters

The terminal on the desk inside the Arctic Haven-assigned room began to flash and text would appear on the screen.

President Robert House is open for communication.

Commander Tolen, Commander of New Vegas operations
Vault 21, New Vegas

Commander Tolen had been sitting in his room passing time when he was alerted House would meet with him now. He stood up from his chair, straightened out his uniform and marched down the corridor and up a stairwell and found himself entering a meeting room, a typical Vault style administrative room, likely an old room used when this floor was used by Vault Overseers still. He took a seat at the steel table and looked up at the screen, trying to feign confidence in his offer to the picture of the finely groomed businessman on the monitor. "Mr. House, I thank you for taking your time to meet with a representative of our organization. My Commander is unable to attend himself as he's en route to the Motherbase. But I know you're a busy man, so let me get right down to brass tacks, sir. I've been instructed to request permission for Arctic Haven to occupy Searchlight Airport, under your auspices of course. The offer stands at 25% of each New Vegas based contract's value halved for you and all contracts not purchased by you in Vegas 25% of its earnings will go to you and Searchlight Airport." He considered offering the fact his boss was willing to negotiate, but he knew that was always on the table of a shrewd deal. If he let that slip, it's more likely House would try to slap them over the barrel and tell them to drop their pants just to have the base, so he thought better of it. "Furthermore, in an effort to ensure no funny business is going on, we're open to monthly inspections at times of your choosing. The base surrounding region is under your jurisdiction, but Arctic Haven will have immediate authority over any and all actions within. If you agree, we'll be pulling out of the Allied Technologies offices and moving all military activities there, in order to help allow New Vegas to appear more tourist friendly." He drank confidently from a bottle of water on the table, at least in appearance. Truth was, he knew it was a hard deal, but expected House to come up with his own terms, allowing a better chance for his people to find fairer terms.

High Elder Gladstone – Western Brotherhood

"We have been apart for far too long, and that estrangement is a luxury that neither of us can afford. While we disagree on a number of things, there are still plenty that we do agree on. We should build on that, and the rest will follow."

Atticus nodded at those words. They held truth.

"I agree to your proposal, Brother Atticus-"

Barnaky stood and extended his hand to the High Elder as he spoke.

"-Our Orders will face the uncertain future...together once more."

Atticus set his drink down, stood and accepted the hand of Barnaky. A deal had been struck, and as such, Barnaky sat back down.

"I will make arrangements to receive a delegation at Omaha, or send one to Electric City if you prefer, to hammer out the details. The first order of business, I think, should be formally re-establishing direct diplomatic relations be exchanging Ambassadors. We'll also need to establish some sort of agreement with the Khans regarding trade routes."

“I have already made arrangements to meet with the Great Khan. A delegation shall be sent to Omaha as soon as a deal is made with him.”
Barnaky made his concluding remarks.

"While we have much to discuss,I think we have gone about as far as we should...here. Unless you have further concerns that can be safely discussed here, of course."

“I think all that has been said is all that needs to be said. If I may Lord Barnaky, I shall bid you a fair day, and take my leave. I have many meetings to attend to.”

Walking over to the door, Atticus paused, before turning, giving a small bow of respect to the Lord Paladin, and promptly exited the room. He had much to do.

"Calypso", Martin said as he took her hand and kissed it, then took his seat. "You look simply ravishing!" Ordering a bourbon and water from the waiter, Martin picked up his menu and opened it, looking up at Calypso, "Have you ordered yet, my dear?", Martin asked. "I hear the New Vegas Strip is excellent here."

She rest her hand on Martin's forearm, “Why thank you Love, you are looking quite dapper this evening yourself.” Calypso opened up her menu, “I have not, but perhaps I shall heed your advice and try the Strip.” The waiter arrived with Martin's bourbon and water then asked if they were ready to order, “Why yes Darling, I would like to try your New Vegas Strip, I would prefer is rare.”

Calypso smiled at Martin, “Why do you across from me Love?” She slid into the seat next to Martin, “There,” she gently laid her hand on his thigh, “This is much better, don't you think?”

She stared deep into his eyes with a touch of innocence, “I find myself eager to hear your proposal regarding The Passage my dearest Martin.” She took a sip of scotch with her free hand while lightly rubbing his thigh, “I do hope that we are able to come to an agreement that favors us both. After all, we are neighboring nations. I would also wish to discuss your opinion of the nation from The Keys. I am most interested in supporting space exploration as it once was, if the repair of the facilities needed would be feasible or not.” Calypso gave another smile, maintaining a non threatening stature demeanor.



Nailed it , Shelby thought, bringing a grin to her face as beads of sweat began to show on the woman's forehead, “It's alright, it is a little warm in here,” she waved her hand as the woman shed her blazer.

The woman had become quite fidgety, puffing on her cigarette, running her hands through her hair she assured Shelby she had no ill intentions before she cut herself off. The woman suddenly scurried to the mini bar, taking a brief pause before fetching a bottle of water and downing it. Wow, wish I got this reaction every time. The red hue from the setting sun glistened off the womans sweaty chest after she had unbuttoned her blouse, her attempts to compose herself assumed Shelby on the inside.

Time to turn the heat up a little more and get a name, Shelby took the woman's blazer and hung it over the back of the chair and scooped up the red tie. She turned away and slipped the tie loosely around her neck then took a napkin and dabbed in the ice bucket until it was saturated and icy cold. “You know, I've always wanted to try one of these on, what do ya think?” Shelby grinned devilishly at the woman, squeezing cold water on her chest, “Chilly,” she shook slightly.

Shelby strut over to the bed as the woman continued to puff her cigarette, “Oh honey, you're a hot mess, here,” she wiped the cold napkin on the back of the woman's neck and around down onto the top of her chest. She tossed the napkin aside and ran her hand through her hair, she bent down, “You can help me, in a few different ways honey.”

Shelby removed the tie from her neck and draped it around the woman's and pulled her up and close to her, “All you have to do is tell me your name,” Shelby let go of the tie after giving the woman a quick kiss, she turned around and stepped towards the bathroom, “My offer still stands, you wouldn't want to miss a chance at this because you wouldn't answer a simple little question would you?” she slapped her own ass and took another step towards the bathroom.

Rough Rider’s - New Vegas, Nevada

2 Corinthians 12:9-10
9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.



She was taken aback by the kiss Shelby gave her, the slight tug at her bottom lip sent chills throughout her body. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and attempted to escape into the moment, but she couldn’t. Even in this moment of blind euphoria she was reminded of a time when she was so much younger, when someone tugged her lip like just Shelby did. There was nothing she wanted to remember from that time, to her that’s when her heart turned into the black mass it was today. Shelby was making her feel things she hasn’t felt since then. It hurt her so much to be reminded of that time but part of her wanted to rush out and embrace it, to embrace Shelby as if she was that someone that tugged her lip and combed her hair with their fingers so long ago.

She wanted to feel like she was a that person again, like she could feel anything but pain again. But she wasn’t the young woman she was back then. Now she was a monster. She was a killer, a woman with a gun that didn’t flinch when she pulled the trigger. So why was Shelby making her feel again? She couldn’t remember the figure of the person she once embraced as she cried through the night, the person that loved her regardless of the things she did and regretted. Her mind was a haze of emotions, and her body was in shambles. Regardless of how well she trained and how strong she thought she was her legs were still shaking and she felt like she was going to throw up.

She was knelt down alongside the bed, her knees trembling against the floor as she held her sobbing head between her hands. Inside her a battle of emotions was raging inside her. As if a part of her she forgot was violently clawing it’s way to the surface. Her damaged heart was beating into her throat as tears once thought to have dried out spilled onto the sheets. She closed her eyes again in a desperate attempt to compose herself. In an attempt to shut it all away again and hide from the pain. She felt like her world was collapsing around her. She just wanted all of this to be over so she could forget again.

That part of her she forgot had other plans for her. It fought like hell to wake her up, to free her from the torment she was lost to behind the gates of Tartarus she had locked herself within when she gave up on everything. When she closed her eyes again out of the gnawing darkness she was struck by a vivid recollection of her past. In this moment she was as weak as she was now. Collapsed on the floor, her body cold and trembling. A gun tightly clenched in her weak, clammy hands. She was crying uncontrollably, the gun pressed against the roof of her mouth while her trigger finger shook inside the trigger guard. She couldn’t pull it, couldn’t end it. She could remember that moment like she was living it all over again. She could taste the steel in her mouth, and feel the gun clenched in her chattering teeth. She could feel how she felt then, pathetic and worthless. She had killed so many people without mercy, but in that moment she struggled to end her own life. It was so painful for her to relive this moment, but there was a reason this was the moment her subconscious chose for her to remember.

A young woman gently laid herself down behind her suffering lover, wrapping her arms around her waist, before laying her head alongside hers. She softly whispered into her ear a song that brought back a flood of forgotten memories.

“I’m a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm
And the scars that mark my body, they’re silver and gold
My blood is a flood of rubies, precious stones
It keeps my veins hot, the fires find a home in me
I move through town, I’m quiet like a fire
And my necklace is of rope, I tie it and untie it…"

In this moment everything was so surreal. She didn’t even feel like she was in Shelby’s room anymore, she had been whisked away from everything that troubled her and was consumed in this moment. She faintly whispered the next verse of the song, like she did in her memory.

"This is the start of how it all ever ends. They used to shout my name, now they whisper it."

Except in the memory the woman that loved her so fiercely was comforting her, she held her with such strength and devotion. She had accepted the fact that her lover was ready to die and was willing to fade out of existence with her. The song was their song, a memory of how it used to be. She missed those times, that woman. Her chest was tightening up as she remembered what happened next. The woman whispered again into her ear, now she was holding the gun with her. Adjusting the angle so it would kill both of them.

“Eliza. I can’t live without you, so if you’re ready so am I. But promise me you’ll take me with you. I don’t want to be alone.”

Eliza dropped the gun onto the ground in an instant, and covered her face in shame as she began to cry harder than she ever did in her life. She could feel the burning in her lungs, she felt then. She could feel everything she felt then, the pain and the shame. Emotions that were all too familiar to her now, but she felt something else an emotion that shot through her body like a bullet and snapped her out of the flashback. It was a rush of adrenaline, like she was with that woman she longed for all over again. Shakily she got up to her feet, balancing herself against the wall. She felt a rush of emotions coming back to her as she remembered who she was so long ago. She was brought back from the edge of the abyss by a woman that cared for nothing else in the world more than her. No amount of wealth could waver that woman's resolve, she was so much stronger than Eliza could ever be. She was willing to die for her even knowing how far Eliza had fallen. She knew Eliza could be fixed even when she thought she was broken beyond repair.

It was the memory of this woman that was driving Eliza crazy. Something in Shelby reminded her of that woman, but she couldn’t be sure if her mind wasn’t just playing tricks on her. So she took the leap for fear that it would all slip away and she would go back to how she was. She ignored everything else that was going on and ran towards Shelby tackling her to the ground and spinning her on her back with terrifying skill. Shelby was just as quick though and had her hand clasped around Eliza’s throat in an attempt to defend herself against the woman that was now straddling her. Eliza effortlessly broke Shelby's grip and embraced her as if she was someone else. It was evident that Eliza had no intentions of hurting Shelby but she obviously lost control of herself to an emotion she hasn’t felt in a long time. Eliza ran her hands through Shelby’s hair and kissed her bottom lip like she did hers, slightly tugging at it as she pulled away. Her tears had yet to dry from her face as she laid her head alongside Shelby’s. She had completely lost her exterior of a cold professional, to reveal a woman obviously hurting and in desperate need of help. Just like the woman she was when she tasted cold steel against her tongue and struggled to end it all.

Eliza tried to compose herself and act tough again, afraid of embarrassing herself but she was being flooded by so many emotions she couldn’t control herself. She started to break down again, crying in Shelby’s arms. Through her torrent emotions Eliza was able to choke out a few words to Shelby.

“I’m so sorry for this Shelby. But will you just hold me please?”

Sherman Smith - Ultra Luxe

Sherman stood behind the conference during the conference. He watched all the delegates carefully, but the cultists caught his attention. As he stared at the brutes sitting there, one of the newly arrived delegates got into an argument with NCR double. He noticed that Sam was going for her gun, and he stopped her. If she had pulled it out and shot anyone, it most definitely would’ve complicated things.

The Pontiff of the Children of Atom approached and began to speak to the governor. Sherman studied his demeanor and knew he wanted some sort of alliance or deal. It made sense; the CoA and the Cult were enemies that had fought. We were one of the largest nation on the eastern border of the cult and might prove beneficial in case of conflict.

The argument between one of the tribal woman and NCR escalated and a fight broke out. Soon they were rolling on the ground. The governor and the Pontiff left the room and they headed to Vault 21. Most of the delegation members accompanied the Governor. He decided to stay behind and scope out the casino.

He walked over to one of the bars and sat at the counter. He removed his hat and put it on the counter. The New Vegas weather definitely was a lot warmer than that back home. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it as he ordered a beer. Something cool ought to help in cooling him off.

Rough Riders, Frontier Unit - New Vegas, Nevada

A faint pulsating tone could barely be heard from inside the pocket of one of the soldiers concealed in the cliffs above New Vegas. Although their senses were in a heightened state as they surveyed their surroundings for possible threats, so even though the beacons tone was faint they still heard it and reached into their pocket to deactivate the device.

They all knew what to do at the sound of that beacon and none of them needed any direction on what to do next. Rising up from their positions the spectral trio effortlessly navigated down the arid rocky slopes of the cliff. Even short a person they still operated in a way that showed they were well bonded to each other.

It wasn't until they got close to the gates of New Vegas that they slowed down and began to speak amongst each other. There was an uneasy banter amongst them that thickened the air around them with tension. As if something was bothering all of them but no one was willing to mention it.

“So do we want to go over the plan before we get to the gates? I don't know about you guys but this whole operation has me jumpy.”

“Jumpy is good. Just make sure you don't lose your cool. This isn't anything we haven't done before.”

“I know that but so far none of this is going the way it was supposed to. Eliza wasn't supposed to signal us this early.”

“So you think something's not square with the boss?”

“Come on we all know something's up with her. She hasn't been right for years. I just don't get why she would lose her cool now. I mean what's the significance of this operation over all the other ones? It's just asset protection.”

“You really think she lost her cool?”

“I don't know for sure but all the pieces are starting to fall into place. She hasn't been right since Oregon. We normally maintain a low profile but now here we are entering an area that the rest of the Riders are probably going to show up at and Eliza is where? Exactly.”

“Let's just focus on the task at hand and if things go south we'll figure it out. Eliza has a reason for everything she does even if it doesn't always make sense to us we still trust her. Otherwise we wouldn't have stayed with her for so long.”

After a few minutes of meandering through the streets they came up to the gates of New Vegas. Even though they were armed and obviously didn't look like tourists they weren't concerned with gaining entry.

One of the soldiers flashed a pass to the securitron and began to speak. “Were part of the Jade Empresses entourage. Special security, we just got called up from reserves.”

The securitron examined the pass and deduced that it was legitimate and after hearing the person speak it promptly replied in its sharp robotic voice.

“There has been an incident at the Tops Hotel and Casino. A member of your delegation. Ms. Shelby Jackson has assaulted the President of the NCR. Ms. Jackson has been placed under room arrest in Gomorrah for the remainder of the summit.”

Using this as an opportunity to interject and further strengthen their case the soldier spoke up again.

“That's why we've been called in. Empress Calypso wanted to maintain a low security presence in order to help bolster her plans of peace and trade but after what happened she requested that we come to ensure her delegations safety.”

The securitron took a moment to respond. Almost as if it were gathering information.

“Very well you are free to enter. Empress Calypso is currently at the Ultra-Luxe. Ms. Jackson is currently in Suite 253 of the Gomorrah. Have a nice day.”

The group was waved through by security and they entered the glistening lights of the Vegas strip.

@Andronicus23
Joshua Graham - Near Arizona border

"Perhaps...it's sad to say, they recovered to quickly for my taste. But nevertheless, the word has been cast. My people are with your people," he spoke, as he looked at the carnage - and sadly at the damage done by the NCR' metal beasts. "Hmm...perhaps we have underestimated the New California Republic once again. No matter..."

Joshua then turned to Luscius and spoke. "I will rally the rest of my people...we'll go get some more...effective weapons against those metal beasts. Though steel has resisted steel for ages - we shall see how plasma and laser would work against them," spoke Joshua, before bowing before the Caesar of the Legion and slipped his cloak back on - before he disappeared into the Wastes down below. The Cloud would keep the NCR from moving forward, for now - he'd need to rally the others and get some of their more deadly weapons ready.

---

@Lewis251
Christine Royce, Ultra-Luxe

Royce sighed in reply, as she sat behind the table alone - the initial talks with the Van Graffs hadn't gotten anywhere. Well, you couldn't win them all - as she soon started to lean back in her chair and thought - namely how she could get more Sierra Madre Chips. In addition, to how to set up the trade and exchange rate with the other humans.

They, as the Ghost Traders didn't require much food, water or necessities. Namely entertainment, was the best commodity they would be worth buying - since despite all of her people, being like near-ghouls - they still possessed their minds, if that was allowed to fester in boredom, it could change to discomfort and eventually madness at this rate.

She wondered, if Casinos would allow Ghost people in...provided they didn't start anything and-

"The NCR has foiled a Ghost invasion on the Arizona border. Despite usage of 'the cloud', the NCR suffered minimal casualties."

Royce fell backwards in her chair in that and fell onto the floor - groaning in reply. There were two things - she DIDN'T want to hear in in conjunction - NCR attacked by her Ghost people and the Cloud used at ALL. Christine shook off the initial shook, from her discomfort and tried to gather her thoughs.

When her nuts and bolts linked together to give her the answer - she started shaking in anger and fuming underneath her gas mask. 'Ohh, you damn mother-fucking son-of-a-bitch. I am going to skin you alive, and set you on fire,' she thought - before she adjusted her look and quickly made a run for the elevator. Quickly tapping on the floor button - and once it arrived for her, she entered it and set it to the Top Floor. Namely the NCR' Penthouse - as she soon made a quick and direct path towards the location.

"I need to the current NCR representative immediately!" she spoke, when she spotted the room and the bodyguards outside it. When she got an answer, for her purpose here - she quickly exclaimed her reasoning.

"There has been an unlawful attack on your state - by people whom weren't authorized to do such a thing. I hear also you been attacked by the Cloud. I am here to...help. To prevent a war from breaking out, to save my people and...to help clear the Cloud..."

Most Serene Key Republic Delegation- Bartholomew Hemingway

“Wonderful, I’ll work on making proper reservations for all of us. Does 8 p.m. sound agreeable? I would like to take some time to visit my quarters and contact Key West about recent developments. It would be an absolute pleasure to see all of you there.”

Bartholomew smiled broadly at both delegations before moving to shake all of their hands. Alexander followed suit, though his smile seemed slightly more… off. With the niceties concluded, Bartholomew took another long drag from his lit pipe and moved away from the group, pondering the upcoming discussions. His Serenity had very grand plans for the East and Key West’s role in it. The outbreak of War in the West, however, was an unforeseen development, and Bartholomew was curious as to how this would impact His Serenity’s plan. Once more, the Bear and the Bull fought, threatening to drag an entire continent into their pissing match once more.

Since Bartholomew had broken off to speak to the Texans, a few more delegations had settled in and made their rounds. Among them Bartholomew spotted representatives from the small Free State of Franklin, along with those from the northern Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. He’d kept his eyes peeled throughout the introductory day of the convention in an attempt to locate important players and developing trends amongst the assembled delegations. It appeared that young Kimball’s NCR was already being isolated, with their delegate having done little more than cause trouble and spout rhetoric. Still, Bartholomew had to respect His Serenity’s wishes to support the Bear in the West, as he recognized the importance of propping up friendly and like-minded states. Just like the Key Republic, however, Bartholomew was more focussed on the East for the time being, and his feet brought him towards his friends from Franklin.

Bartholomew moved into the small screen of cigar smoke surrounding the pair of Franklinites, appreciating the familiar aroma and taking a small puff off of his own pipe. He quite appreciated the folks from Franklin. Their culture was refreshingly genuine, and while it had strong parallels with Conch culture, it lacked the showy opulence and haughtiness of the Keys. Bartholomew reached out to shake both of the Southron’s hands, his six skinny fingers firmly grasping each of their hands.

“Gentlemen, it is a pleasure to see you made it. I pray your trip was a pleasant and shaded one. Mr. Connor, I am currently in the process of making dinner plans at the Tops Casino for 8 p.m. tonight, and it would be a pleasure to have you along- my treat. His Serenity sees a bright future for both of our nations, and I hope to speak on this topic tonight, if you can make it.”

After Bartholomew finished explaining pleasantries with the inland Southerners, he excused himself from the convention hall, making his way to their assigned suite to prepare for dinner tonight. Meanwhile, across the room, Alexander was attending to other, albeit similar, business. He had finally accepted some food and drink, having already nibbled on a bit of cranberry scone which lay on the plate before him, and was currently nursing an inviting cup of black coffee. Peeking at his diver’s watch, he decided to attend his final bit of official business for the night and make his way towards the oddly-dressed man from the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. He had had experience dealing with these northern folk, as they were some of his primary trading partners outside of the Republic. They were a peculiar folk, and were blind to the whispered truths of this world, but he did not harbor any hate for their kind.

Within moments, the sharply dressed, mustachioed man made his way towards to traditionally clothed northerner. He extended a hand towards him, as was customary in the Keys, but delivered a much softer and somehow more unnerving shake of the hand than Bartholomew would have offered.

“Mr. Smith, isn’t it? I’m Alexander Suttbray, of House Suttbray,” he paused with a slight smile, waiting for recognition. For better or worse, he assumed this man had heard of him in the past.

“I would like to extend to you a dinner invitation, as it seems you long for food and drink” he gestured towards the man’s beer. “My fellow delegate, Mr. Hemingway, would love to have you at his table at the Tops at eight tonight. He wishes to discuss with you matters of a certain import, and perhaps share a drink or two.”

Alexander settled into the barstool beside Sherman, prepared to make small talk if need be. He would not be attending the dinner tonight. His business would only begin when the sun was firmly beneath the horizon and the stars smiled cruelly above. Only then would he be prepared to speak with the fair young woman from earlier.


7:50 p.m., The Tops- Bartholomew Hemingway

Bartholomew sat straight in his chair, looking over the nearby balcony onto the gambling floor beneath. New Vegas certainly had its own sort of charm to it. It was a city where dreams were either fulfilled or shattered, hazy with smoke and neon and smelling of cheap perfume and expensive booze. He watched as each of the invited delegates entered the building, their demeanours standing out starkly against this Western air of Old World opulence. These were all men of the East- above such base temptations and more concerned with the well being and prosperity of man in this new world. It was for this reason why His Serenity had orchestrated this dinner from Key West, after all.

After each of the invited delegates had been greeted and orders were placed, Bartholomew took a stand and clinked his glass of gin and tonic lightly. What he was about to present to those assembled before him was the main purpose of the Key delegation in Vegas. In recent years, both the Texans and his own people had been tied to the bloated corpse that was California. The West had overshadowed the growing peoples of the East with their warmongering and refusal to change, and all were left in a dark age of sorts because of it. No longer.

“Gentlemen, I’m sure you all have at least some inkling as to why I organized this dinner. This continent we call home has yet to pull itself out of the slump our ancestors in the United States put us in, and we are, frankly, all to blame. Five years ago, most of us fought in some capacity to put an end to tyranny in the Americas by making war with the Bull of the West. While it was a noble and just cause, we failed- and not just because of the Treaty of Goodsprings and its preservation of the Legion. We failed because we proceeded to do next to nothing to improve the state of humanity afterwards. Liberty, freedom, democracy- these are all ideals which we hold dear, yet the West and Northeast harbor tyrants and extremists which would undo all of the fragile progress humanity has made since the Great War.”

“In the West, the fate of millions lies in the hands of dictators like Barnaky, Lucius, and, dare I say, Mr. House himself. Even the former paragon of western democracy, the New California Republic, has shown its true face today with its disruption of the peace talks and blatant expansionist attack on the Legion. No effort was made to let diplomacy solve their problems. We cannot let this become the norm for America, lest we repeat the mistakes of our ancestors. His Serenity has provided a starting draft for an alliance of sorts which would bring our enlightened nations closer culturally, economically, and militarily. The American Co-Prosperity Sphere would be an axis of nations dedicated to the spread and perseverance of liberty throughout the Americas. While a lofty goal, it is one which we must pursue if we are to bring humanity out of its dark age. The agreement brings along with it more practical applications as well. Closer trading ties, mutual protection, the return of international law. We hope to use this alliance as a way to create and support democratic regimes for and of the people of America. In addition, we have an interest in hiring the Angels of War as a possible multinational military force to support this alliance and ensure the dictators of the West cannot stomp us out.”

Bartholomew moved a briefcase onto the table before continuing.

“I’m sure you all have many questions about the exact details, but does anyone have any input before the reveal of the actual document?”

---

---

Connor was sat quite near to Mr. Hemingway, near the end of the table, with the Captain on his right. His every movement was nothing but focus into the presentation at hand as he feasted upon the fine meal provided. His own plate was Brahmin rib roast, soaked in beef broth and seasoned liberally with garlic and parsley. To the side is Appalachian-style green beans seasoned with pepper, and with it was fried okra. While dining, he took the odd drink of California red wine from an ornate glass, all the while proving immersed in the proposition.

"None." Connor commented, a warm smile upon his face as he answered the question of input.

---

---

The Captain was of course sat right of Ambassador Connor, dining on his own meal. In contrast to Connor's dinner, Riley had his own ideas. The main course was grilled poultry drowned in Appalachian-style sausage gravy. On the side was a collection of neat buttermilk cornbread squares, along with a buttered corn-on-the-cob. As for his drink, it was simply fine beer, of no real specification other than its extreme quality. The Captain stayed rather silent during the presentation itself, staying immersed nonetheless.