((Collab Post between Madly33, TheUnknowable, and Letter Bee)) [b][i]Present Day[/i][/b] Old Mans corner, a mix feeling given off by the place of suffering and greed. The town is boarded off but lardge wooden walls with barbed wire and eletric fences crushing any dreams of escape. The town is more of a straight road that goes straight through the town, as you enter to the left there is dark trees and vegitation from the park and on the right a mix of Pre-War buildings now boarded up and used for housing or storage, wooden pens line the street where the slaves are kept when they do not work. The smell of feces clogs the nose a mile before you even enter the town. The town is musty and rusted over, hot from constant coal work and fire pits just outside the town. Par turned up his nose at the smell, but he knew it was a sacrifice to make in order to achieve his mercantile goals. Either way, as the truck drove to the borders of the town, the merchant was stopped by several guards, who then parted the gates after ascertaining Par's identity (it also didn't hurt that they were given a tip). After parking his trucks, the merchant, hopefully accompanied by Greg, three Robots, and three Mercs, went up to the main structure, where they asked to see the prime slave merchant of the town. Greg parked his truck and nodded to the Merc captain who was riding shotgun. "You and two other guys come with us." He then got out and told Prince to follow him, along with the two Mr. Handys they'd salvaged. They had to set up several crates for Prince to exit the truck, but he was the most reliable robot they had. Greg walked over to Par. "So, the Mercs can follow you in, I'll keep the robots. For some reason I trust the robots more. Maybe it's because I've seen their programming and know they won't turn on me over a few caps." He didn't mind trusting Mercs over basic operations, like collecting robots or clearing Raiders or creatures, but when dealing with Slavers something made him nervous about them. "Are you looking to buy?" The man glared at Par. "I don't believe you have business with him otherwise." He hissed looking him up and down and watching the Mercs. "Yes, yes we are," Par was frank. "We need enough for a salvage operation we're conducting, and we're prepared to give good caps for them. And, of course, we also have a few gifts for your leader." He patted his backpack. The man looked over his shoulder quickly and back at Par. "Gifts? If I may ask can I see them, there is no being too cautious now a days, don't you agree?" He said with a smile, hoping Par would be friendly in return. "Of course, of course!" Par was genial as he brought out two Pistols from his backpack; one was a shimmering black Colt that looked clearly polished, while another was a gun of the same type, only embossed with gold and mother-of-pearl. One of Par's first salvages. "You can have the Black Colt, if you like," he said. "Now, can you escort us inside?" his smile was wide. The man quickly grabbed the gun and sheathed it at his side "Yes, yes of course." He said as he walked around the corner and motioned him to follow. As they walked up steps to a run down boarded building the man stopped at the entrance and knocked at the wooden door. "Please, weapons." He said holding out his hand to Par and the Mercs "and I ask that you unload any ammo stored in the gun you have for the Master." He said quickly. As he finished the door slid open and a brute of a man moved outside "When you're ready" He mumbled in a deep, dark, and hollowed voice. Par nodded, handing over his submachine gun, his own pistol, and his dagger. The mercs and presumably Greg did the same. He then unloaded all ammo inside the gift gun, before entering the sanctum of the lead merchant. The brute eyed them as they walked past him. They entered a rather large room, the ceiling a few stories high at least. There was a glass chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling and the room was covered in art and writing. "Here to buy?" A man greeted from the back of the room, in what seemed to be a throne. "The Guildmaster" as they called him, he was treated like a king. He took a puff of his cigar and tossed it to the side. "Well?" he said quickly after. The 19-year old gave a bow, with his escort doing so too. Then, Par spoke to 'The Guildmaster', holding out his gift. "Of course we came to buy. But first, here is a gift, in order to soften negotiations. A pistol embossed with gold and mother of pearl, for someone of your eminence." The Guildmaster held the gun, feeling its weight and fingering the trigger. "What is this?" He hissed. "Is this supposed to get you a discount?" He asked angerly. "I am not to be haggled filth" He spat. "To be honest, I didn't know much about your habits, so you might excuse me for making a mistake. Nevertheless, my gift is a show of how much wealth I have access to, and how much I can pay." Par then looked The Guildmaster straight in the eye. "I plan to run a salvage operation in the New York Public Library's Main Branch, very close to this place. As you are the closest source of cheap labor, I thought I'd make an arrangement with you. Basically, I want slaves. Strong men and women, children that can get into tight spaces, and if you have a slave that just so happened to be able to read, write, and do sums before they ended up here, I'll pay extra." "And by extra, I am willing to pay 200 Caps for each man, 150 caps for each woman, if you're selling women, and 50 caps for a kid. Oh, and 1000 caps for a learned slave. If caps are lacking, I also have purified water." The man sat back in his chair as his lips curled into a smirk, he held up his hand and beckoned as a lady walked up and placed a lit cigar in his hand. He puffed on it once then looked up "Let's make a deal" He said through his smirk.