The Old Mormon fort bustled in the midday sun, just another busy day in Freeside. With House victorious in the Battle for Hoover Dam, New Vegas' influence grew to new heights and with it the shadow it cast over the outskirt town of Freeside. As ever it remained refuge for the destitute and greedy either seeking entrance to the Strip proper or fuming their removal by one of the seemingly omnipresent securitrons patrolling the glistening gem.

The influx wasn't all bad though, the Followers had found some reprieve in the steady tide of strangers. A pair from the East with a way with critters; Great Khan Refugees with friends in low places; want makes strange bedfellows though none more-so than Scrap.

"Are you sure you have everything?" Julie Farkas called amidst the ebb of white coats and immigrants, worry hidden beneath her chipper tone. Over a decade of stress had aged the young woman since House won the Dam though she retained most of her looks...though whether that was a good thing or not depended on the frequency of her patients' cat calls on any given day. "We weren't able to divert much from the effort here but Michael is bringing a few Med-X around now for if the voices start acting up again. We need you on your best behaviour, understand? And keep these out of sight, we're running low as it is." Julie chirped a motherly reminder as she eyed the Followers' de facto ambassador sternly.

"Yes, Joolie... Rauuugh, I understand, Scrap will behave for Haylee. Scrap will not listen to voices... Aughh, Scrap will just work, work and behave." The guttural drawl and measured pondering of the Nightkin before her calmed Julie's nerves a bit; if he was stalling he was thinking and if he was thinking it meant he was paying attention. Farkas had learned how to read the Nightkin's intents fairly well over the years given his species' notorious unpredictability. She just wondered how he'd fair with strangers...

Julie was pulled from her thoughts as another white coat tapped her on the shoulder. "I've got the Med-X you wanted though we'll need a new shipment soon if this thing with House doesn't pan out; I still say we should send someone else to talk to them, people are dying here, Julie, I really don't think sending the mascot is gonna-"

"Enough." Julie grabbed the small case of needles from the whitecoat's hands before returning to her more agreeable demeanor. "I understand, Micheal but Hayley knows what's she's doing. If these rails are the best way to get the Followers in House's good graces then we need to send our best engineer, simple as that."

Visibly upset, Julie moved closer to the whitecoat and spoke in hushed tones. "Speak to the Khan again, see if you can arrange that shipment, double our last offer. With Tenpenny's caravans choking out the competition it'll be harder to get through unnoticed but we need those supplies." With that, the whitecoat nodded and shuffled away.

"Looks like time's not on our side, Scrap." Julie sighed, wiping her brow in the intense heat. "Hayley and I have arranged for you to get into the Strip. Tell the Securitrons at the gate you have business at Lucky 38, got it? Lucky. Thirty-Eight."

"Lucky Thirty-Eight, got it. Guuuagh, Joolie?"

"Yeah, Scrap? Did you forget something, do I need to go over anything again?"

"No. I not forget. Scrap just wonder why Joolie not just ask Haylee to get Med-X. Pennyman has good junk, Pennyman can trade for lots of chems!"

Julie smiled and stepped toward the Fort's exit, causing the Nightkin to follow. "Maybe someday Scrap, for now you've got somewhere to be." 

Scrap nodded then shouldered his enormous satchel of bits and bobs and adjusted his Trader's Cap. "Bye Joolie, Scrap got things to find, work to do!" And so he was off.

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"Shoouee!! Big fellar like you must be here for the barn-raisin'! If you'd just follow me up to the penthouse we'll see if we cain't find you a seat. Some o' your compadres are already here so feel free to mingle like."

As soon as Scrap crossed through the gates of Freeside, a strange robot called him over. whether this was coincidence or simply someone wanting to minimize the amount of time the Strip's patrons and the Mutant spent together was anybody's guess. As Scrap followed the cowboy robot up the intricately lit stairs and into the grandiose 38, he listened closely to his tour guide's instructions though was soon distracted.

"Metal Man, you grind too much! When was last time you check axle? Sound like, Aauughh, too much weight on one side, you carry lots Metal Man?"

"Now now, I ain't one t'kiss and tell, hombre. Suffice it to say not all o' our guests here tonight got here in as good a shape as you, pardner. Speakin' o' which, this's your stop! Enjoy your stay at the Lucky 38, pardner! Yeeehaw!"

With that, the doors to the penthouse opened and Scrap stepped into the large suite; crisp, clean, and no doubt hiding some very good junk. Two humans sat at the far end of the room and a third very small human stood mere feet from the elevator. Looking down over the man, he noticed the explosive beneath his foot. "I need this." With a gentle nudge, Scrap knocked the small man to the side and quietly took the grenade.