[color=1a7b30][i]Allied Technologies- Arctic Haven Temporary Command Center, New Vegas[/i][/color]

The two soldiers, one male and one female, stood outside the roll-down gate that separated the base with the outside world, divided by massive concrete walls with joints at even segments in a square shape. The two soldiers guarding the gate were suspicious of this newcomer, dressed in obvious Brotherhood apparel. "Halt! You're approaching Arctic Haven territory. State your purpose or vacate immediately." The man gave a dignified but rigid response to their challenge. "I am Brother Joseph of the Midwestern Order of the Brotherhood of Steel. I am here at the request of Commander Fulman, I wish to discuss with him matters of his interest...and ours." The soldiers eyed each other warily before the man leaned into his shoulder, muttering into the radio. "Alright, you're clear for entry. Hyena, take him to the Commander." The woman banged three times on the gate in a one - two three rhythm and it rolled up with a groaning screech. The woman said nothing to the man, escorting him past the row of neatly parked trucks and the vertibirds, soldiers still at practice in combat with each other. They stopped at a white trailer with the banner of the Haven flying high. She saluted the Brotherhood guest, "Here is the Commander's post, sir. I must get back to the gate.", she walked back down the road and the gate squealed once more to let her out.

[color=1a7b30][i]John Fulman, Commander of Arctic Haven Forces[/i][/color]

John was busy studying the patrol logs of soldiers who were doubling as police in return to House when the door opened to a man quite clearly of the Brotherhood. "Welcome, Brother Joseph. Have a seat, if it pleases you." He pulled up a big jug of water and poured a glass for himself and for the Brother. "I'm not one for theatrics, so I'll skip right to the chase. We need the Brotherhood's aid, one that will be clear in a moment." He closed the metal shutters, then took his seat behind the desk once more. "Much like the Brotherhood, our outfit has its origins tied in the Pre-War US Army. A key to our history is our residency on a chain of islands used as a small sector of Alaska's missile silos. Recently, our excavation crew clearing out collapsed tunnels found a long lost secondary command silo, overrun with weeds, vines and dust. But one thing they did find before I ordered them out until further notice was an ICBM. Now, according to our top technicians, all it'd take to repair this missile is to repair the rocket's boosters and recalibrate some....I don't know. Some kind of circuit board gizmo the eggheads were trying to explain. But the point remains, this missile poses a threat to the world. We have no desire to ever use nuclear arms, but we always prepare for the 'if' of should our home islands fall into enemy hands." He paused, scratching rubbing his beard in contemplation before he continued.

"I get why you might wonder why I am bringing this up, 'Are you bragging?' you may be wondering, but it's quite the opposite. The only people I could ever trust to lock this weapon away....is the Brotherhood. If need be, we'll cover the costs of removal if need be, but one this is clear: That weapon of our ancestor's sins must be hidden from the world for good. Especially given factions like Kimball and those freakshow cultists running around. The beefs we've had with the Brotherhood have all been business, but on a personal level, we have a degree of respect for the Brotherhood, so we're looking to your people to take it away and keep it secure in your hands."