The bourbon was finely aged, a drop that Cass had given him following Hoover Dam. He watched it elegantly splash against the side of the glass as he poured, looked deep into the brown liquid trying to remember all of the forgotten memories he had lost to it. As it reached the half way point of the glass he tipped back the bottle and did the same for the second glass, handing the first to his guest.

The man had came to New Vegas 3 days ago. He had asked for an audience but Samael, the Courier, was a cautious man and so had denied the request. The man stayed around though, spending his days holed up in his room in Vault 21. It was on the 3rd day, and when Samael's boredom had got the better of him, that he invited the man up to the Lucky 38. Ofcourse, he also had 6 Securitrons in the room.

"An impressive show of power" commented the man as he looked at the Securitrons. Slowly he put the glass to his lips and took a sip. He sighed contendedly as the whiskey travelled down his throat.

"I am a cautious man" said Sam with a friendly, but fake, smile.

"That's not the way I hear it" said the man with a laugh, "destroying the Legion and taking on the NCR? That takes balls"

"Balls and caution aren't mutually exclusive" replied Sam.

"True that" answered the man, taking another sip, "but it's not often you find both..." he said, trailing off as he looked out the window behind Sam. They were located in Mr House's former room, a level Sam had made his "office", and even he had to admit the view was impressive. He wasn't surprised the man would take a moment to soak it in so he stayed silent. It gave him a chance to size the man up as well.

He was an older man, with poorly hidden flecks of grey beginning in his hair. His face was relatively wrinkle free, however. His clothes, a dirty Duster, dark shirt and well worn pants, showed that he was a veteran of the wastes. Or hadn't found the laundry room in Vault 21, Sam thought. Still, while he looked rough, Sam didn't get the feeling that he was evil. In fact, the man reminded him a little of Boone in that regard. After a moment he loudly cleared his throat.

"I'm sure you didn't come here just to look out my windows and drink my whiskey..." he said.

The man smiled. "Of course, how rude of me" he said, "although if I'd known how good the whiskey was I might have come earlier" he laughed, "but down to business...I have an offer"

"Lots of men have offers" replied Sam, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms, "what's special about yours?"

"How many promise you caches of old world technology?"

"A lot, actually" Sam admitted.

The man looked a little surprised at Sam's answer, but he began to reach into his coat. The Securitrons snapped to attention and Sam reached under the desk, putting his hand on the shotgun he had strapped there, the twin barrels pointed right at where the man was sitting. He stopped moving and smiled at the Securitrons.

"Just some paper" he said, pulling out his hand to reveal a folded piece of paper in his hands. Sam waved the Securitrons off and they stood down. He also took his hand off the shotgun and grabbed the piece of paper as the man handed it to him.

It was a corner of something, with black edges suggesting the rest had been burnt off. There was some writing on the right, which described several items and their respective item numbers but not actually what they were. The rest of the paper looked like a map of some kind, with some topographic lines telling Sam whatever this was, it was located in fairly flat land. Finally, there was a small symbol in the top right corner, a vault symbol with the number 16 printed on it.

Sam looked up, not convinced. "This is...?"

"A part of a map to Vault 16" said the man, as if that was enough to convince Sam. When he saw Sam's look of disbelief, he said "You don't know about Vault 16?"

"No I do not"

"It's a legend, a place that contains some of the best of pre-War technology. Nobody knows where it is...except me" he said.

"Isn't that convenient" muttered Sam sarcastically.

"I was paid as part of a salvage crew. We got there and I saw the Vault, some of what it contained...it's incredible" he said, awe-inspired.

"And let me guess...you had to kill the others for the map?"

"What? No!" he said, angrily, "he would only show us the first level, but even that was enough to fill up our pack beasts and then some. It was when we were leaving..." he started, trailing off as he travelled back into his memories, "...raiders attacked us. Maybe a rival prospector, I don't know. I managed to get the map but most of it was burnt off before I got away"

"And then you came here?"

"No...I travelled for a long time, even found some more information about the vault. Nothing concrete, but order forms for some big machines. Whatever is down there, it has the ability to change the wastes. Interested yet?"

"Perhaps...why me though? Why not the NCR, or the Brotherhood, or the million other groups who want power over the wastes?"

The man looked away, but this time he wasn't looking at anything in particular. "I've met people like that before...this technology isn't for anyone. The ancestors hid it for some reason and, although I don't know what it was, I assume that the power was too great even for them"

"And you're giving it to me?"

"You fought for independence against an army of savages and a republic of tyranny. You brought down a 200 year old genius who would have put this land under his heel...I've always believed that this technology was meant for someone special. When I first heard about you, I knew you were that person..." he trailed off again, as tears began to well in his eyes, "this has been my life...and has cost me several others. I want to finish this, before it's too late..." he finally finished. He wiped the tears from his eyes, realised he still had a quarter glass of whiskey and downed it all in one go.

Sam leaned forward. Emotions like this weren't common in the wastes. They showed a weakness that could be exploited, and so nobody ever showed them. For this man to be so open...either he was genuine, or a perfect actor. Sam took another look at the map. On any other day he would have turned the man down and forgotten him as just another crazy prospector on a wild goose hunt, but today? Today he was feeling compassionate and, he had to admit, bored.

He stood and offered the man his hand. "Samael Grant" he said, "the Courier"

The man looked at him and smiled, before getting to his feet and shaking his hand "Oswald Lucius, but I prefer Oz" he said, "so are you saying yes?"

"I'm saying maybe" said Sam, "but while I think about it you'll be given a room in the 38. These Securitrons will take you to it and I'll have someone pick up your things from the Vault"

"No need" he said, waving his hand dismissively, "this is all I've got" he tugged at the sleeves of his duster, attempting to get some of the dust off.

"Right"

"Ok, till we meet again" said Oz. He did a short bow, smiled cheekily and then made for the elevators with two of the Securitrons following him.

"Wait!" called Sam. Oz turned and the Securitrons parted, letting him back through. "You never told me what you wanted from this?"

Oz smiled again, but this time it was more of a grim smile. "That part's easy...you just have to promise, when this is over, that you'll kill me"

With that he turned and got on the elevator, the doors closing with a hiss behind him.

Dustan had come to New Vegas like so many others; with a pocket full of hard earned caps and a head full of dreams of riches. But unfortunately he left like so many others as well, with no money and a crushing depression the only things driving him home. All he had left was 1 cap, his "lucky" one, which he felt like tossing in to the river at this point.

He wasn't a large man and had spent almost a quarter of his caps buying security for the initial journey. But now, with no money, he had been terrified that he would be attacked. He had done his best, staying on all of the major roads where the Securitrons patrolled, even sleeping on them at times and he was only a day out from his town of Ely when he got sloppy.

The small valley had looked like a clear shortcut and would have cut nearly 12 hours from his journey. Unfortunately for him, it was also the home of a Cazador. The creature had chased him out to the road and then some, eventually catching up to him and jabbing it's stinger into the back of one of his legs.

He collapsed in pain and it circled around to attack him again. He tried to get into a ball but the leg that was stung had swollen straight. He squeezed his eyes shut and hid his head in his arms.

Suddenly he heard a shot, then another. He opened his eyes to see the Cazador lying a few metres from him, two smoking holes in it's carapace. A man appeared, wearing jeans and a strange leather jacket with the face of a wolf embroidered on the back. His skin was tanned, his arms were fairly muscled and he carried a rifle in his hands and a pistol strapped to his thigh. He crouched down next to the Cazador, his back to Dustan, and pulled a large knife from a sheath on the back of his pants. He began cutting in to the dead animal, Dustan guessed to try and harvest it.

"Oh...thank you, thank you!" he said gratefully, tears streaming down his face. The man's back stiffened and he turned, a look of mild surprise on his face. It was a rough face, with several small scars, but it was his eyes that were the most interesting; his iris' were white and they gave him an etheral quality.

"You survived?" he said, his voice mirroring the surprise on his face. Dustan merely nodded, still crying tears of joy. He began to think about that Mary, about how he had kept telling himself he was going to talk to her but never did. Now he sure as hell was! He leant back, still overjoyed at his brush with death. He was staring up at the clouds and closed his eyes, soaking in life in general; the wind on his face, the sun on his skin. Everything made him feel alive.

He didn't see the man take out his pistol, nor did he hear the shot or feel the bullet as it exited his head with most of his brains. And he especially didn't feel the man go through his clothes to find he had nothing but a single cap on him, not even worth the bullet used to kill him.

The man pocketed the cap and turned back to the Cazador.

"Might as well get something" Isaac said to himself and he plunged the knife back into the dead insect, smiling at the squelching noises it made.