The wanderer stepped into the room, and the Enclave trader grinned slyly. "Well hello there son, good to see you"
"Don't call me son, where's the armor?"
The trader's grin widened more now. He opened the case on the ruined desk in between them. In it, there was a full suit of metal power armor; the green paint on its joints was slightly faded. It was rustic, and in poor condition. The wanderer looked down at it, his own power armor was devoid of the green paint, as it was a common suit, procured from an old Brotherhood of Steel armory. Even so, it the poor suit in the case made his armor look brand new. Under his power helmet, the wanderer frowned. "Where did you get this" he asked. The trader responded sheepishly, "a caravan from paradise falls was ambushed by super mutants on the way to rivet city, I scavenged it after they left." The wanderer knew no caravan would have this kind of armor, especially not those worthless slavers from the falls. He had an urge to take out his plasma rifle.
"What caravan?"
"Don't remember"
The wanderer's patience was starting to wear, this man was ridiculous, and this armor was fake. "I've had enough, your lying, and this armor isn't real" he said. "You forged it from scrap, and painted it green to cover it." The trader's grin lessened, the wanderer was on to him. He had to try to get back on track. "Oh come on" he said, "the paint isn't to cover anything; this type of armor has it on all models!" The wanderer had had enough. He reached above the armor, then slammed his fist down, the chest plated cracked in half, almost completely disintegrating. "Real power armor, especially this type, doesn't do that." The trader's measly grin completely disappeared. "Well, "he said, "I guess the jig is up, Roamer" From behind the wanderer, an enclave spy jumped out from the shadows, ripped the wanderer's plasma rifle from its holster on his back, and quickly had a knife to the wanderer's throat. The trader spoke again. "Sorry to do this to someone of your caliber son, but Colonel Autumn really wants you, so take off that helmet, and get on your knees" The wanderer was furious now, but he gave the trader one last chance to cooperate. "Tell me where the real armor is, now"
"You're in no position to be asking about it, you are a captive o the enclave now"
"No, I'm not" Enough is enough the wanderer thought. He immediately head-butted the spy holding him, he let out a cry of pain, then dropped the knife and fell to ground. The wanderer snatched up his plasma rifle, reached across the desk and slammed the trader with the rifle butt. The trader to cried out, then fell face up on the ground. Turning around, the wanderer shot the spy; hot plasma glistened as it flew from the barrel and slammed into his head, which collapsed on the impact. The wanderer then turned again, walked around the desk, and knelt near the trader. He reached into the trader's coat pocket, and then pulled out a small map, and a piece of paper with names. The trader looked up at him. "You little shit; I shouldn't have wasted my time with you."
The wanderer pointed his plasma rifle at the trader's head, and his eye's widened. "Well I'm very glad you did" the wanderer said. "I got exactly what I came here for."