[color=1a7b30][b]John Fulman- The Ultra-Luxe, New Vegas[/b][/color]

 John was messing with an old Pipboy that linked up with the nearby TCC they'd set up, since none of the other factions were here yet, he figured now was as good a time as any to update their Haven Command satellite's Pre-War map with Post-War map data collected by the Pipboy en route to Vegas. It was depressing to see the once pristine US layout become filled with pockmarks, divides and empty spaces where forests had once stood. He had an itch in the back of his head and looked up as he scratched and noticed members of the Enclave arriving. Of course, he'd never seen these individuals before, but it didn't matter. Even when he was a kid, Enclave vets all carried themselves with that same 'stick-up-the-ass' pomp as if being born on an oil rig made them superior, despite losing to a tribal. For a minute, he worried if they'd seen those Vertibirds of his, that were really just Enclave vertibirds from an abandoned base and re-painted, but then he figured given all they've lost and suffered, two vertibirds are likely the least of their concerns. He'd seen a younger soldier in NCR gear watching him as he transferred data. "What is that thing?" John shrugged, it's just an old Pipboy. Not as fancy as the 3000 series, I won't lie, but it's definitely sturdier. Our maps in our base in Alaska are outdated. Our journey here gave us a chance to update our maps." He watched as Kimball's procession came in and he gave a snort of derision.", which clearly didn't sit well with the kid next to him. He looked at John angrily, but wasn't about to embarrass his nation here, but he still confronted him. "You think something's funny, [i]merc[/i]?", the young man said, clearly expecting this old coat to flinch. John didn't even react with hostility back, he just put his cigar in his mouth and lit it before he responded calmly, "As a matter of fact, I do. I'm wondering how a pissant like Kimball keeps his office when the man can't fight his own wars anymore and sends kids off to die for him." That really didn't sit well with him and he almost stood up before he composed himself. "And who the hell are you to judge us, old man? At least we fight for good. What the hell does a mercenary know about loyalty?" John smiled, the scar running across his lip parting with it.

John put the cigar at an angle on the ashtray and halfway took off the right side of his overcoat, revealing his BDUs and an old service patch with a blood-red ruby chip sparkling in the light of the room, "Read that." he told the boy. He mouthed out the words and his eyes grew wide. Twentieth batallion? Your unit were some of the first units to see action during the first Battle for Hoover Dam." The soldier looked at John with reverence but John didn't acknowledge it. "That's right. That fleck of ruby is what they added in honor for all the blood our men and women shed for NCR. But do you know what I learned after that battle?" John didn't wait for a response, he simply continued, "I learned NCR doesn't care about us soldiers nor the people they claim to protect. All that matters to them is the power of NCR. And this patch...." His hand curled into a ball as he fought back anger. "This patch meant everything to us, but nothing to the NCR politicians back home. 'Nice job soldier, glad you survived, now go fight this next set of bad guys and hopefully you wont die there either'. This patch is in honor of my brothers. My sisters.  They bled for that damn Dam just as much as I did, only they paid the ultimate price...." John noticed his cigar starting to burn out and took a puff to keep it lit. "I left when my enlistment was up and never looked back. I found my place among a bunch of mercs in the Alaskan seas and I've been there since. Ever since I found my place among the Arctic Haven soldiers, I realised we were a people all our own. Former Brotherhood, Veteran NCR, even old Enclave soldiers and their kids. They put that past behind them for the Haven, a place for us soldiers. Where we're wanted and appreciated." He slipped the kid his business card and soon after, all the Securitrons belted out an order of silence, the older man in the suit calling the factions at the bigger table to order, so he put his Pipboy on the table, allowing the audio feed to be recorded by the troops at the TCC to archive the data of what is discussed here for analysis and how to use that information reliably.