[color=00aeef][b]Desmond Lockheart - On the Road to Pittsburgh, Outside Yonkers[/b][/color]

Desmond strained his eyes as he stared towards the towering broken structures of what used to be the old world city of New York. His recent trip via the molecular relay had left him with a stomach churning sensation, and although The Institute’s personnel had assured him that use of the relay conferred no ill effects, he wasn’t fond of traveling with it. He’d seen enough of those cheesy B-movie horror flicks before the war where some brilliant scientist accidentally teleported half of his body or some other poor sod’s right into oblivion. He didn’t like to use it, and would have preferred his own two feet if he could spare the time.

Still, he couldn’t help but admire its efficiency and speed of travel. The Institute had calibrated the relay to the furthest extent of their comfortable transmission range. It had taken a hell of a lot of power, and would it been entirely impossible if not for The Institute’s cold fusion reactor, but it had manage to drop him not far outside the outskirts of New York, which was a rather considerable distance to travel quickly even in the pre-war world. 

SRB had loaded him up with enough provisions to last a good long awhile, but he needed information and speedy, discrete, transport to Pittsburgh, if such a thing was possible. He might find both in New York and if not there, then in The Free Commonwealth, his next destination. The potential difficulties of the journey were not lost on him. He’d heard Pittsburgh was a hell-hole after the war, but rumour was that now it was even worse. 

“The hell am I doing this for anyway?” He muttered to himself as he heaved his supply satchel up and over his grimy overcoat. He then stared down at his rotten, necrotic hands, rubbing his fingers together lightly as he tried to remember what it felt like to have skin that didn’t peel off every time he touched it. Thomas’s promise of a new body, a return to what he once was, flooded his mind. It was a gamble...but he had to trust the pre-war popsicle to hold up his end of the bargain. 

“Right then,” He sighed, and he double checked to make sure his 9mm was secured by his side, “On the road again….for the upteenth time in a fuckin’ century.”
 
[color=ed1c24][b]
Caesar Lucius, Santa Fe - Palace of Caesar[/b][/color]

[i]“As I see that I am the first to arrive, might I be presumptuous, and enquire as to any matters you might wish to raise with the western brotherhood? Might I suggest an exchange of ambassadors and perhaps the establishment of a trade agreement between our civilisations? In additions to any other matters Caesar wishes to raise with my nation.”[/i]

“Ave Elder, and firstly, I thank you for the gifts. They were unnecessary, but not unwelcome. I’ll gladly accept such generosity,” Lucius nodded to a couple of Praetorians standing guard at the doorway, and motioned for them to take the chests of finery away so that they would not clutter up the meeting room. 

“As for your second question, yes, I think there is a matter we should discuss. Have a seat. The matter I wanted to discuss with you specifically, Elder, and one of the primary reasons for your invitation to this gathering was to allay some concerns. Your recent militaristic reform of The Brotherhood hasn’t gone unnoticed, especially by your neighbors. The Great Khans. The Khans are not allies of the Legion, and indeed many of them still harbor resentment against us after the learned what Sallow had planned for them in Vegas….however we have good enough relations as it stands. And those Khans who are friendly to the Legion have expressed doubts that your intentions in the region will remain peaceful.”

He paused for a few seconds and leaned in, “And so I'll ask you bluntly, are their doubts unfounded?”