[b][u]"The King" - FZM[/u][/b]

The King had taken a seat at the end of the table, acting as the representative of the meeting's host, Mr. House. He sat up straight, took off his hat, and set it on the table in front of him. The other representatives looked restless, to say the least, having disintegrated their concentration and manners in favor of whispering and occasionally bickering among themselves. He had been eagerly awaiting to see the sort of entrances that the big personalities were going to make, and he had not been disappointed. 

After a few moments of staring down each and every representative -- particularly the young woman from The Cult, whose enigmatic features and mannerisms perplexed him from the moment she walked in -- The King cleared his throat and motioned toward one of the guarding securitrons.

"PLEASE BE SILENT." each securitron belted out simultaneously. The room quickly fell silent, and The King cleared his throat a second time.

"Welcome to the 'New Vegas Convention'," said The King as loud as he could without seeming brusque. His deep husky voice distinctly cut through the awkward air in the room and his eyes narrowed in focus. He then adopted a fake, warm smile and clapped his hands together. "Robert House, President and C.E.O of the FZM, is pleased to be hosting you tonight, so that we may discuss the future of our homeland."

The King turned and winked at one of the securitrons. He knew for a fact that House was remote-controlling at least one of them, in order to hear every word uttered at the meeting. "Before we get down to business, let us discuss etiquette, as many of you have traveled a long way from faraway lands that might not have the same sort of gatherings..." He paused. "Firstly, rules -- any act of aggression will be suppressed by one of these fine gentlemen in the room." He pointed at the various securitrons stationed next to the doors. "The Free Economic Zone of the Mojave is a place where any man or woman from any place...any background...can enjoy the sanctuary of Mr. House. In addition, any vulgar or completely unnecessary behavior will be documented and may result in a revoked invitation, in which you will no longer be welcome in this room."

After speaking for what had seemed like years, The King paused. The room stayed silent. "Mr. House sees a future where we can work past our differences and rebuild -- back to the way things were before the bombs. We can only accomplish this if you--our guests--promise to behave and be respectful. I enjoy a good debate, but if you become a nuisance in this hall, I will eagerly rescind your invitation."

The King sat back down in his seat and allowed the room to digest the wall of speech he had given them. He hated to be [i]that guy[/i]. He had rehearsed those lines a dozen times before the meeting and they had caused him to cringe on each read-through. Why House couldn't have just addressed the group himself was beyond him. It had to have been ego -- Robert always wanted there to be a haze of mystery around him. It is hard to predict a man if you never have a chance to confront him directly. Either way, The King had been appointed judge, jury, and executioner of the etiquette at the convention. He knew very well in this new age to do exactly as was told.