[color=f7941d][u][b]Ambassador Benjamin “Benny” Watts [/b][/u][/color]

It was early evening when the escort had to stop at the small mining settlement of Sloan. Benny had wanted to press on but he could see the exhaustion in the faces of the ten CSF agents who had to walk. Even with the cool October breeze the men were sweating hard from the heavy combat armor. It had been a largely quiet hike from the Checkpoint. Benny soon understood the NCR squad escorting them had been given strict orders to not engage in conversation with himself or his entourage. At midday they had all stopped for lunch in the town of Primm and Benny was able to get a better look at the squad escorting them. They were young, obviously very inexperienced but heavily armed regardless. All the privates carried semi-automatic rifles with their corporal toting a light machine gun. Staff sergeant Keyes and sergeant McKinny were armed with carbines, and pistols. Each trooper carried at least a single fragmentation grenade and light body armor. For reservists in a battalion that hadn’t been resupplied in years they were remarkably well equipped. Col. Abernathy had clearly done a fine job ensuring his soldiers remained battle ready. 

Benny hadn’t met the infamous colonel yet and was trying his best to delay their meeting as long as possible. Despite Abernathy’s failing support in congress he still held public support. Benny had to give the aged veteran credit, the man had held the Mojave territory together even while the NCR fell apart. Benny had heard that four years ago congress had cut off funding for the 3rd Infantry. Col. Abernathy had been informed that his soldiers would not be paid so long as famine ravaged the NCR. Despite this, Benny heard that the colonel continued to pay every one of his soldiers. Where exactly the money came from was a source of controversy in the politics back west. The Articles of Incorporation had been the legal basis to which Abernathy enforced his taxation. But the validity of this document was contested, to say the least. Benny could harbor a guess as to why. When passing through Primm Benny had made an effort to speak to the local mayor, an old woman by the name of Cynthia Meyers. Mayor Meyers had provided Benny a copy of Primm’s AOI. The terms were generous for the 3rd Infantry, allocating them ten percent of all profit accrued within the township. Meyers was critical of the taxation but had admitted to Benny that since signing they hadn’t suffered a single violent attack on the town. Even while settlements in the core regions were raided, the threat of retaliation by the 3rd Infantry had kept the Vipers and the Khans away from small towns in the Mojave like Primm. 

Regardless, the colonel was an obstacle and Benny knew he had to be careful around the man until they could remove him. A staunch republican, Abernathy would resist the corporatization of the NCR under the Van-Graffs. Benny had no love for the Van-Graffs but their extraordinary wealth provided him privileges he would not have otherwise, especially given his relationship with the Bishops. 

Benny had ordered the CSF agents with him to find a proper dwelling to spend the night. They had forced out an old quarry worker from his cottage and secured the place for the ambassador. He had undressed in privacy, cleaned himself in a small basin of water and then prepared himself for sleep. Aside from two CSF agents guarding the door to the cottage, the rest were eating dinner with the NCR troopers and workers at the common house. They would have another early day tomorrow and Benny wanted to ensure he was well rested so as not to appear fatigued to the people of New Vegas upon his arrival. He checked himself slowly in the cracked mirror of the cottage. He had gotten some sun while hiking, his nose and cheeks were a bit red. He swore and washed his face again before he looked for his skin cream he had brought with him. 

After he applied the white cream the door to the cottage opened and in stepped a CSF agent and one of the young soldiers from the escort. 

“Private Tannhauser here would like a word.” The CSF agent closed the door behind them and stood staring at the young soldier.

“Tannhauser huh? You must be the son of Emmanual, correct? I met your father briefly before I was appointed ambassador to the Mojave.” Benny began to search through the cupboards of the kitchen looking for any booze stored away by the old man who lived there. Finding some whiskey he pulled it out and poured two glasses and offered one to the private. 

“Here you go.” Benny looked at the CSF agent who was still in the room. “Can a man get some privacy when he speaks to a citizen of the Republic ?” The agent nodded, slightly embarrassed and stepped out, closing the door behind him. “Now how can I help you son?”