[center][img]https://i.redd.it/jsm1l1anwht01.png[/img] [h3]Flavius Valerius Pontificus Augustus Maximus Vulpes Inculta Constantine Invictus Caesar[/h3][/center] The Emperor was tired, and was thus walking towards his tent to rest. At many points he was offered the chance to sleep in an air-conditioned building or RV, but he declined all offers preferring the same rolled up canvas of his early service to the Legion. There was a feint smile upon his face, that brought on by a productive day. The tendrils of the Frumentarii were spreading ever further and the homefront was getting ever more secure. The next day would be fruitful, and the night would be peaceful. Except, it wouldn’t for now. As Vulpes Inculta walked along with a few Praetorians about him his walk was interrupted by the approach of the governor of Colorado. Vulpes sighed, knowing it was far too late to try to walk around the fellow. Frequently he had to make (admittedly idle) threats to the man for overstepping his bounds, but he was too useful of a man with his little charts and agendas in running his territory. Forcing himself not to sigh, Vulpes nodded to the man. “What is it, Lord Colorado.” “Ah, my Beloved Emperor, how fortunate it is I came upon you.” the man said, in spite of fortune having played no part in this. “What is it, Lord?” Vulpes asked impatiently. “Denver my Lord. I really do think we should revisit the topic.” “We have gone over this. Unless you have something new to add to the discussion the topic ends in the same way.” Vulpes walked on expecting the man to have nothing of the sort, but he was wrong. “As a matter of fact my dear Emperor, I do. The cyberdogs? We’ve discovered their source.” “Elaborate.” Vulpes demanded. “I’ve ordered all the Frumentarii under my command to scour the city, and though many are now food for the feral hounds they found the sub-basement of a factory in the city to still be operational. How? They cannot determine, but whole batches of cybernetic dogs are released from there daily with no sign of ceasing or stagnation. They are more faster and stronger than ordinary mongrels we breed, they are more durable and are far more efficient with their feed. Where a spear would pierce it’s skull it would be blunted by hardened plastics, where a bullet would burst its innards it may well bounce off of steel. I understand in coming wars against the NCR and other advanced adversaries you wish to retire the use of these dogs. But think of how they may come to be brought upon tribals? But a pack of them would tear through whole villages in our way; indeed, many would have their valour crushed to simply see these monstrosities. Further, given we no longer need the ordinary hounds with our future use of the cyberdogs we will be able to freely use the ferals to feed our troops while they clean out the immediate area and bring the city to life. “Why do we need the entire city then, Lord? Insofar as I can see we only need the one facility.” For all his capabilities as an administrator Lord Colorado was almost childishly jealous of the other States, and wanted a true capital for his territory. “Because! If there is a facility operational from before the war in the sub-basement of that factory then what might other sub-basements harbour?” “We both know that the factory working is a statistical improbability, I can all but guarantee you will not find more working factories yet automated.” “Of course not my Lord, I have tempered my expectations!” [i]Doubtful[/i], Vulpes thought, but he let the man finish his thought. “Of course we won’t find working factories. But consider this, the sub-basements of the area seem well deep enough to not have been so viciously damaged by the ravages of the bombs and the local population of dogs - combined with the radiation of the area - have kept the area clean of scavengers and prospectors ever since nuclear hellfire scoured the Americas. Firearms, electronics, packaged foods, medicine, supplies of all sorts. It is a veritable treasure trove my lord, and if we can restart the production of the cyberdogs we can use them against their feral kind to clean out the city to pick it clean of what it has. Many buildings are in very good shape still and can later be repurposed for purpose ranging from industry to administration and clerical work.” The desire of the Lord to have a true city under his domain was nauseating. However, his earlier points were at the very least fairly convincing in regards to sending an expedition to the locale. Though he probably shouldn’t have made such a decision at this time and under such conditions, he really was rather eager to get this over with. “Centurion Allarus is under your command. We will discuss the matter further in the morning, dismissed.” [hr] [center][h3]Operating Squad "Venus"[/h3][/center] [hr] [i]Click[/i] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nOWjX4BpC24]A song started to play[/url] on the radio, and it was a fairly nice one. The Frumentarius removed the holotape before placing it in his pip-boy to let the piece start from the top. It really was groovy, even if his active-headset was inverting the noises somewhat. “Found something, Sir?” “Just a nice holotape.” “Yeah, I can tell.” The Frumentarii exchanged laughter. The Poseidon building had been unfruitful, prospectors long since having picked anything immediately useful from it and they couldn’t find anything relating to Petro Chico as desired. But you know, the holotape made the time feel well spent nevertheless. They had been up North for quite some time now, about a month ago having left the last areas where the Legion exercised formal control. Ultimately their aim was to find a band of 80s appropriate to groom into leaders of the greater tribe such that a great force against the NCR may be formed. Alas, it seemed for the moment that they could not find any. Drunkards resting on their laurels were the best they came upon so far, and to be honest the leader of the Frumentarii group was rather disappointed. Perikles was starting to think that they were on a wild goose chase, to be frank. Of course it would be some time before he’d be ready to voice this to his Emperor in comminiques, but nevertheless it was at the forefront of his mind. After a short lunch the Frumentarii packed up their gear and went towards the exit of the building they were in, until one whistled, making a motion for his comrades to follow to the window he was at. Smoke was being belched in the distance, and soon the sound of a great motor followed. It was a column of bikers moving very, very fast. “These ones we haven’t seen.” “Yeah, markings are different. Similar, but not identical.” “Should we follow them.” “Yes. Hurry.” “Copy that.”