Member
Robert Edwin House – President, C.E.O, and Sole Proprietor of the FZM
Lucky 38, 27th Floor
As Robert waited for the remaining delegates to take their seats in the Gourmand, he returned his signal to a flat-screen on the wall in the Lucky 38 conference room. His enigmatic face flickered upon the computer, revealing the digitally-produced facsimile of his likeness.
The Borgios had all gotten comfortable, although this handful of representatives at a massive table (meant for almost thirty) looked awkward and almost humorous to him. Still, he needed what they knew. That name was supposed to be gone. It was supposed to be erased. Yet there it was, clear as day.
Mr. House activated his microphone. “My name is Robert Edwin House – President, C.E.O., and Sole Proprietor of the FZM. I have hosted you in my home, today, because I received transmissions from a very interesting conversation that you had with one of my securitrons.” He paused. “I do hope you are enjoying your stay. I do not mean to alarm you.”
Robert then paused and took a deep breath. “I want to, however, skip pleasantries because I am deeply curious as to why you have come across the name of Thomas Milburn. That name has been wiped away with the Great War, yet it springs up here on my doorstep. Why?”
A Sharp-Dressed Ghoul
The Tops Hotel and Casino
The ghoul scrambled for the Chairmen’s conference room. He had planned this perfectly – he had raided their vault during a meeting, and it was supposedly still underway. Somehow, none of the guards realized that the two massive duffel bags on his back were far too large for innocent winnings, but he phonied himself all the way into the meeting.
The doorman walked into the conference room and bowed his head. “A…uh… ‘Mr. Domino’ has arrived.”
At the conference table, Swank jolted awake from his bored stupor. “What?!”
Dean walked up to the table and slammed the two duffel bags against the table. “It’s a pleasure, ‘Swank’.”
The other chairmen at the table drew their weapons, pointing them at Dean.
“Uh-uh.” Dean retrieved a lighter from his pocket and pointed the flame at the duffel bags. “These particular goodie-bags have been coated in oil and are filled with your precious coffers. Any funny business, and your entire revenue will be lit on fire.”
Swank waved, motioning for the rest of the guards to lower their weapons. He had a furious, nervous expression on his face. “What do you want, Dean Domino?”
“Aren’t you going to ask how I did it?” Dean had a silly, shit-eating grin across his face. He pointed at his sunglasses. “I am clearly a master of disguise. Even after robbing Vault 21, your man at the door couldn’t make the ‘sharp-dressed-ghoul-who-is-liable-to-rob-you-blind’.
Swank rubbed his forehead and sighed. “No. I don’t care how you did it.”
“You don’t? Well, you should.” Dean kept his lighter pointed toward the bags. “I want this casino. For myself.”
“You what?! No!” Swank bellowed. “What kind of delusional cat are you?”
“One who has thought this through,” said Dean in his calculated, articulate voice. “If I burn these bags, you’re through. There’s hundreds of thousands worth of caps and NCR dollars in there. Without them, your casino will go under from debts that you will no longer be able to pay. House won’t bail you out, because he’s been looking for a reason to wipe the slate clean. I will be his voluntary dustpan.”
Swank banged his fist against the table. “I’m not afraid of your silly theatrics!”
“You should be. I drop this lighter, your regime is through.” He looked at the others. “Here’s what I’ll do. You fire this fraud, who was robbed blind under his own nose, and give me the top gig. In return, you’ll have your money back, and everything I stole from Vault 21.”
The other chairmen began to look among themselves.
“You can’t be serious?” Swank folded his arms as he looked at the others.
“Sorry, cat. You’re through.”
General Jimmy Donovan – Leader of the F.Z.M Military
Hopeville Missile Base
The General watched from his office in Hopeville Missile base as the flood of prospective soldiers walked through the halls of the bunker. This gig was new for him – he had been equipped with the U.S. General’s Outfit left behind in the Divide. In fact, there was an entire wealth of military equipment left behind. There was enough U.S. Army Combat Armor to supply an entire army, and several riot gear suits were left as well. It was strange to think that these vagrants and NCR deserters would eventually march on his behalf. Underneath the old-world flag.
Suddenly, the computer on Jimmy’s desk flickered. He was receiving a transmission from Mr. House.
“General Donovan speaking.”
“Salutations, General. How are the accommodations in the Divide?”
“Satisfactory, sir. Hopeville has been cleaned and repurposed, as have the tents, and we’re putting the final changes on Ashton. The final stretch of the Divide itself, as I have said, will take a great deal of time, but we’re on schedule. We are having to demolish a great many of the fallen buildings, sir.”
“Very good. I trust that training is going well?”
“Decently. We are waiting for the Brotherhood to arrive to grant us some elite training, but we are doing what we can. We can expect a regular-issue of M16s, AK-47s, as well as plasma and laser rifles alike from what’s been left behind here.”
“Err on the side of conventional weapons,” muttered Mr. House. “The energy rifles will be extremely expensive to maintain on a large scale. Once the human military has been more firmly implemented into the scheme of things, then we can talk about plasma rifles.”
“Very well, sir.”
“What sort of numbers have the military invitation brought?”
“We haven’t done an official census sir, but the number is in the thousands. Many of them will be unfit for service, but many of them will be trained into your ranks, sir.”
“And my REPCONN scientists have de-activated the ICBM found in Hopeville, yes?”
General Donovan stared out of his window and nodded. “Indeed. It has been scrapped for parts for you and the Brotherhood’s research alike. Just as you asked.”
“Good. Carry on, then.”
Lucky 38, 27th Floor
As Robert waited for the remaining delegates to take their seats in the Gourmand, he returned his signal to a flat-screen on the wall in the Lucky 38 conference room. His enigmatic face flickered upon the computer, revealing the digitally-produced facsimile of his likeness.
The Borgios had all gotten comfortable, although this handful of representatives at a massive table (meant for almost thirty) looked awkward and almost humorous to him. Still, he needed what they knew. That name was supposed to be gone. It was supposed to be erased. Yet there it was, clear as day.
Mr. House activated his microphone. “My name is Robert Edwin House – President, C.E.O., and Sole Proprietor of the FZM. I have hosted you in my home, today, because I received transmissions from a very interesting conversation that you had with one of my securitrons.” He paused. “I do hope you are enjoying your stay. I do not mean to alarm you.”
Robert then paused and took a deep breath. “I want to, however, skip pleasantries because I am deeply curious as to why you have come across the name of Thomas Milburn. That name has been wiped away with the Great War, yet it springs up here on my doorstep. Why?”
A Sharp-Dressed Ghoul
The Tops Hotel and Casino
The ghoul scrambled for the Chairmen’s conference room. He had planned this perfectly – he had raided their vault during a meeting, and it was supposedly still underway. Somehow, none of the guards realized that the two massive duffel bags on his back were far too large for innocent winnings, but he phonied himself all the way into the meeting.
The doorman walked into the conference room and bowed his head. “A…uh… ‘Mr. Domino’ has arrived.”
At the conference table, Swank jolted awake from his bored stupor. “What?!”
Dean walked up to the table and slammed the two duffel bags against the table. “It’s a pleasure, ‘Swank’.”
The other chairmen at the table drew their weapons, pointing them at Dean.
“Uh-uh.” Dean retrieved a lighter from his pocket and pointed the flame at the duffel bags. “These particular goodie-bags have been coated in oil and are filled with your precious coffers. Any funny business, and your entire revenue will be lit on fire.”
Swank waved, motioning for the rest of the guards to lower their weapons. He had a furious, nervous expression on his face. “What do you want, Dean Domino?”
“Aren’t you going to ask how I did it?” Dean had a silly, shit-eating grin across his face. He pointed at his sunglasses. “I am clearly a master of disguise. Even after robbing Vault 21, your man at the door couldn’t make the ‘sharp-dressed-ghoul-who-is-liable-to-rob-you-blind’.
Swank rubbed his forehead and sighed. “No. I don’t care how you did it.”
“You don’t? Well, you should.” Dean kept his lighter pointed toward the bags. “I want this casino. For myself.”
“You what?! No!” Swank bellowed. “What kind of delusional cat are you?”
“One who has thought this through,” said Dean in his calculated, articulate voice. “If I burn these bags, you’re through. There’s hundreds of thousands worth of caps and NCR dollars in there. Without them, your casino will go under from debts that you will no longer be able to pay. House won’t bail you out, because he’s been looking for a reason to wipe the slate clean. I will be his voluntary dustpan.”
Swank banged his fist against the table. “I’m not afraid of your silly theatrics!”
“You should be. I drop this lighter, your regime is through.” He looked at the others. “Here’s what I’ll do. You fire this fraud, who was robbed blind under his own nose, and give me the top gig. In return, you’ll have your money back, and everything I stole from Vault 21.”
The other chairmen began to look among themselves.
“You can’t be serious?” Swank folded his arms as he looked at the others.
“Sorry, cat. You’re through.”
General Jimmy Donovan – Leader of the F.Z.M Military
Hopeville Missile Base
The General watched from his office in Hopeville Missile base as the flood of prospective soldiers walked through the halls of the bunker. This gig was new for him – he had been equipped with the U.S. General’s Outfit left behind in the Divide. In fact, there was an entire wealth of military equipment left behind. There was enough U.S. Army Combat Armor to supply an entire army, and several riot gear suits were left as well. It was strange to think that these vagrants and NCR deserters would eventually march on his behalf. Underneath the old-world flag.
Suddenly, the computer on Jimmy’s desk flickered. He was receiving a transmission from Mr. House.
“General Donovan speaking.”
“Salutations, General. How are the accommodations in the Divide?”
“Satisfactory, sir. Hopeville has been cleaned and repurposed, as have the tents, and we’re putting the final changes on Ashton. The final stretch of the Divide itself, as I have said, will take a great deal of time, but we’re on schedule. We are having to demolish a great many of the fallen buildings, sir.”
“Very good. I trust that training is going well?”
“Decently. We are waiting for the Brotherhood to arrive to grant us some elite training, but we are doing what we can. We can expect a regular-issue of M16s, AK-47s, as well as plasma and laser rifles alike from what’s been left behind here.”
“Err on the side of conventional weapons,” muttered Mr. House. “The energy rifles will be extremely expensive to maintain on a large scale. Once the human military has been more firmly implemented into the scheme of things, then we can talk about plasma rifles.”
“Very well, sir.”
“What sort of numbers have the military invitation brought?”
“We haven’t done an official census sir, but the number is in the thousands. Many of them will be unfit for service, but many of them will be trained into your ranks, sir.”
“And my REPCONN scientists have de-activated the ICBM found in Hopeville, yes?”
General Donovan stared out of his window and nodded. “Indeed. It has been scrapped for parts for you and the Brotherhood’s research alike. Just as you asked.”
“Good. Carry on, then.”