Knock-knock-knock.

Ambassador Dennis Crocker stopped typing on his computer terminal and looked up at the door. He had been working on his report to Shady Sands, desperately polishing it so that he could at least deliver some good news to the President. The situation at the New Vegas Embassy had hardly improved in the seven years since its inception. Mr. House, the enigmatic ruler on the Strip, would not maintain correspondence. No matter how many times the ambassador had reached out to him, there would never come a reply. With progress halted in that direction, Dennis hoped he could convince the President that the New California Republic had a tighter grip on the Mojave now that the Fiends had been recently eradicated. This was good news for the republic. The chem-crazed raiders were ruthless slavers who killed, raped and pillaged hundreds of civilians. In the past year they had annihilated the entire population of a nearby Vault to claim it as their own. But someone turned the tide. A man who Dennis had recently befriended.

"Come on in," Dennis said. He watched as the door opened. The man had come. He wore a yellow, padded full-bodied armor that read SECURITY on the back. On his head he sported a 1st Recon beret, deep red in color with the standard bear-skull patch. "Hello Abe."

"Dennis," Abe said, smiling. "How about a hand of Caravan?" While the ambassador usually had civilians call him Ambassador Crocker, Dennis had made this exception. He had taken a special liking to his friend. In a few short months, Abe and his band of accomplices had taken back the Vault from the Fiends. This alone would have caused Abe to rise to fame with NCR citizens. Yet Abe also helped smooth out the tense relations between the local population and the NCR squatters, combat wild creatures near ranger outposts, and even train a few misfit soldiers at Camp Golf. It seemed there was nothing that Abe could not and would not do to help the republic reach its former glory.

"Are you ready to play?" Dennis asked. He reached into the bottom drawer of his desk and grabbed a stack of cards. "How much should we wager?"

Abe grinned. "Always ready. 2000 caps sound fair?" He reached into one of his large front pockets and grabbed out his deck. The cards were not a typical deck of playing cards. In a game of Caravan, the players could use as many cards as they wanted to, as long as it was higher than thirty. Larger was not always better, as seasoned veterans of the game knew. It all depended on the value of the cards and the quantity of certain numbers or faces. A smarter player was always on the lookout to improve their Caravan deck, improving their chance of success. Caravan, when played correctly, could be quite a lucrative pastime.

"I'm going to stop your winning streak today," Dennis said, a grin forming across his face.

Abe let out a soft chuckle. "You better pray your government salary goes up, or soon you'll be out there like every other squatter looking for handouts."

"Oh-ho-ho! You're asking for it today."

The two men placed the pot of money – bottlecaps of Sunset Sarsaparilla and NCR dollars – to the side of Dennis' desk. They looked through their cards, taking a couple minutes to choose carefully. Then, they set the decks on opposite sides of the table. Each player grabbed the top eight cards of their own deck and fanned them. They held them in their left hand, so their opponent could not see. In the beginning of Caravan, players took turns choosing three numbered or Ace cards from the eight and setting them in three distinct column bids. If they ran out of number cards, they were forced to withdraw a card and draw again until they could place the numbered card down to start the next bid.

Abe looked at his eight cards and smiled. He waited for Dennis to choose his starting card for his first bid pile. Dennis scratched his chin as he thought methodically. He lifted the cards in his hand as they reflected the ceiling lamp's light. His first card, a Six of Hearts. "Your move," he said.

Abe set down a Six of Diamonds from the Tops Casino deck. He looked up at Dennis and said, "Don't worry, old-timer. I'm not copying you."

"Good," Dennis said. He set down his next card.

"So, what have I missed since I've been gone? Fill me in."

"Same old story Abe. House is locked up in his sky-high mansion tower, watching us all with those beady eyes. Your turn."

Abe looked at his hand. "That guy," he said. "You'd think with all that wealth he would ditch this scene. He doesn't have the right to flaunt his exclusiveness for all to see." He placed his second card. Seven of Hearts from Gomorrah.

"That's for sure." Dennis thought for a moment, then set down his final card. He let out a deep sigh.

"What's wrong?" Abe asked, looking through his hand but also peering over to see his friend in distress.

"As much grief as we're getting here in the Embassy, you and I both know that House isn't the problem on the horizon."

"Uh-huh." Abe placed his last card, Ten of Spades from the Ultra-Luxe.

Dennis looked through the remaining five cards in his hand. These were the playing cards; he would draw a card for every one of these he discarded or played. The goal of Caravan was to complete three bids, or caravans, of cards that would each total anywhere from 21 to 26. In doing so, players would beat out each of their opponent's caravans directly across from them. Players had to place their cards from high to low, or low to high, with some exceptions. For example, since Abe had first set down a Six, his next move would decide the order of his cards. If he placed a Seven on the Six, his next card on that bid would need to be higher than Seven. If he placed a Four on the Six, his next card on that bid would need to be lower than Four. However, a Queen of any suit could be applied to a card to reverse the order of the caravan. Face cards had no value, and instead had certain effects on specific cards in the caravan. The card played after the Queen could not be the same value as the card the Queen was played on. Another move that could change the order of the cards was if Abe set down a card in the same suit as the previous card. Regardless of the order, a card with a matching suit could always be played after a numbered card, given that the cards did not hold the same value.

"Sorry," Abe said. "Come again?"

"The problem on the horizon," Dennis said, looking up at Abe as if he were out of this world. "The problem on the horizon?"

"Oh yeah, that."

Dennis set down his first card, and then drew another from the deck. A Jack of Hearts, which he applied to Abe's Six of Diamonds. This move forced Abe to withdraw the card, reducing his present caravans to two. Predictable, Abe thought. I saw that coming by a mile. Jacks were played as a sort of defensive move against the other player, in order to remove cards from their caravan and slow them down.

"It's just a damn shame, the monorail at McCarran," Dennis said, bitterness in his voice. "It just doesn't make sense."

"What's so confusing about it?" Abe asked, placing a Nine of Clubs on top of his Seven, then drawing another card. He had heard of the incident on Radio New Vegas. It was a tragedy, for sure, but not something he felt required a further visit. Caesar's Legion had planned an attack on the NCR and they had succeeded. The bloody marauders were calculating their next move in their long-time war against the republic.

"I've read Colonel Hsu's disciplinary review reports on the subject. Private Davey Crenshaw never showed signs of allegiance to the Legion. He was a prankster, not a terrorist. I feel like there would have been more evidence."

"Mr. New Vegas' account isn't nearly as vindicating," suggested Abe. "I mean he's practically demonizing the guy. And besides, there was proof linking to him. Proof that the bombing was premeditated, right?"

"Yes, there was."

"We know for sure it was the Legion-"

"There could be more people involved, is all I'm saying," Dennis interrupted, looking sternly back toward Abe. "I'm not alone in this. I know I'm not." Dennis placed down another card, directly across the caravan of Abe's that was now empty. Abe had already given up hope on that caravan. If he could beat out Dennis' other two caravans with his remaining two, he would still win.

"You haven't heard the whole story, have you?" Abe asked. He placed a Nine of Spades on top of his right-hand caravan with the Ten of Spades.

"What are you talking about?" asked Dennis, as he set down a King of Hearts on Abe's Ten of Spades.

Dammit, thought Abe. I guess now I'll focus on the middle pile. Dennis' play had caused Abe's caravan to become too heavy. It was over-encumbered, now at a value of 29. He looked up at Dennis as the ambassador planned out the next move. This was the second "defensive" move. "Colonel Hsu wanted me to keep this classified because I'm not officially with the NCR. He told me it was for my safety. Do you know how they took down Davey?"

"Captain Curtis shot him, just as Davey was about to throw a grenade. It blew him away. Blood, guts everywhere. I've seen photos. It's not a sight for the eyes."

"That isn't quite true." Abe placed down a Ten of Spades from Gomorrah on top of the Nine of Clubs in his center caravan, securing the caravan at 26. Now, Dennis could only play three moves. He could use a Jack to remove a card. Or he could use a King to double the value of one of Abe's cards. Or, he could bring his cards up to tie, prolonging the game. He decided on this third option and placed down another card.

"It isn't?"

"Curtis had help in his investigation." He looked at Dennis, who gave a clueless gaze. Abe scoffed. "Really? You know I've been aiding the NCR. Put two and two together." Abe placed down a card in the empty caravan, starting it up again. He drew a card from his deck. It was a Six of Clubs from Sierra Madre. Just what I needed.

"You put Davey down?" Dennis placed another card on one his caravans. He now had a value of 24 on the caravan to Abe's left, the same column of Abe's weakest bid.

"I did," Abe said. "I killed the frumentarii."

"Huh. There's something though, I still don't understand."

"What's not to understand?" asked Abe. He placed the Six of Clubs on top of the Nine of Spades. 35. "Davey was a spy, picked out by Caesar himself!"

Dennis sighed, and put his fan of cards down. "News travels fast around these parts, kid."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"NCR top intel says that the Boomers have given their support to the Legion. Someone out there has made contact with the isolated tribe and is now seeking their alliance."

"Okay."

"I like you Abe, I really do."

"Thanks Dennis. You're not too shabby yourself. You remind me of my father, but to be honest I don't remember too much about him."

"I appreciate that, Abe. I don't get too many friends here at the Embassy. I'm a little worn. Old-fashioned, if you will. You see, I have been here for seven years. Seven long years. In all this time I have hoped for better relations with Mr. House, and in all this time I have never stopped hoping for the day that the NCR will gain full control of Hoover Dam. That's why I often feel alone. Everyone here is dreading tomorrow, I know it. I wish it weren't so, but they have lost sight of the future. People may respect me to my face when it matters, but I know they think I have false hope. They don't like to come to me for answers. I don't get too many visitors from the inside. But it's a true hope. It's a strong hope. Even through all the aimless days, the hope has remained. A hope like that, it's something you gotta train. You gotta wake up every morning and look at yourself in the mirror and tell yourself that it's gonna be okay. No matter what happens, even if today is full stormy clouds, there will be a bright tomorrow. The sun will come out. I love my country. I love the NCR. I won't give up hope. This same hope, I have for you."

"Oh wow," Abe said. "That's, uh… very kind."

Dennis lowered his voice as he said his next, grave words: "I know you're with the Legion."

The sound of silence could not have been any louder.

Dennis continued, "It's not too late to turn around, Abe." He rested his hand on Abe's forearm in an endearing manner. "Nobody else knows, but I recognized the Boomer cap. You see, I met one of their kind once. He had taken sick in the Old Mormon Fort. He never revealed his identity, never told us where he came from. But I've read up on old history books, where I can find them. That cap belonged to Nellis Air Force Base. The very same type of cap you sported the day we met. It's been months since then, but I remember."

"Abe, you don't want to work with the Legion. You know of the atrocities they have committed. I know you are a kind, good-natured person. You're better than them. You don't have to become them. Surrender, and I'll have you act as our finest NCR spy. Only you and I will know, and I won't give away your identity. But we'll have the upper hand. And we can finally win this war. What do you say?" Dennis took his hand off Abe's arm and placed a card from his hand onto a caravan. "Your move."

A single tear slid down from Abe's eye, down his cheek and hung on his chin. He was breathing deeper now. He was calm. "I win," he said. "True to Caesar."

Bang!

Bang! Bang!

Ambassador Crocker lay hunched over his terminal, bleeding. Two bullets in the chest, one in the head. Abe, the Courier, placed a Jack of Clubs onto his own over-encumbered caravan, removing the Nine of Hearts. This moved the value of the caravan from 35 to 26, winning Abe the game. He stood up, leaving the money on the table. Outside the office he heard NCR soldiers yelling out for the ambassador. Suddenly, spurts of gunfire rang out. Members of Abe's posse, his ghoul friend Raul Tejada and his loyal Duraframe eyebot ED-E, were riddling the rest of the troopers in the embassy with bullets and lasers.

"Goodbye, friend," Abe said as he turned the handle on the door and made his exit.