The oil lamp on the desk flickered; the only light in the room, it casts ghastly shadows on the walls and ceiling. A journal rests on the nightstand- silhouettes dance across an open page. Swirl and mingle like unseen creatures in the night. They bend and warp, lunge and retreat, but eventually they always return to their source. To the man standing in the middle of the drafty little room.

Anatolius is wearing his finest suit; black, subtle pinstripes down the front, double high button jacket with a wide notch to accommodate his large chest. He stares into the mirror. Whoever had it tailor-made hundreds of years ago was his exact size.

He looks convincing. The gold chain of a broken pocket-watch dangles from his suit coat's pocket; just enough personal flair without being over the top. His shoes are a polished jet black, and a black flat-brimmed hat completes the look.

The meeting is going to be serious. He knows that much. It would have taken an incredible amount of resources and people to track the Frumentarii, and so he knew the tables were about to turn; whether it was in his favor or not he could only speculate.

But he's ready.

.

.

.

The microcosmic Strip pulsated with life, sin, and a dozen other things the Legionary had no use for. NCR soldiers staggered around in clustered groups, ebbing and flowing with wealthy travelers and gamblers and neon lights into the various casinos. It was a non-stop flood of depravity. One he only tolerated for the sake of one day being able to destroy it.

As he passed through the main gate his eyes fell on the towering Gamorrah, circumscribed in fiery orange. Word had passed through several days ago that the leaders of the Omertas had been killed. All at once, in the same room. Caesar blamed infighting for the loss of his precious distraction- Anatolius knew better.

There was only one person he knew who could do it like that.

Passing through the next gate, he entered the Tops, submitted to the weapons check (leaving his silenced .22 and combat knife carefully tucked away), and strolled through the atrium.

Anatolius hadn't been to the Strip often- for various reasons- but he still noticed there wasn't much going on here. Finding the stranger would be easy. A few gambler profligates played at the slot machines, isolated from one another in their reverie of false hope, while a large group congregated around the only blackjack table in service, their excitement rising and falling in shouts and frenzied calls. Past the game room was the main lounge- and where he expected to meet this new contact.

He spots someone sitting alone at a table in the corner. Even with his back to him and wearing an entirely different suit, he knew it had to be him. The hat and briefcase give him away. Hiding his hesitation by putting a little swagger in his step, Anato walks up to the table.

"Ah, glad you could make it," the stranger said, politely setting down his silverware and motioning him to sit. "Food? Drink? It's all on the house."

"I'm not here to eat," he replied curtly, taking the seat across from him. Even this close he had trouble making out his features in the low-light ambiance.

"A man of action, then. Respectable. I'm sure you're wondering what that whole thing at the Wrangler was all about; I assure you it was necessary," he took a sip of still-fizzing sarsaparilla- made sure no one was close enough to overhear. "Before we get down to business, I'm willing to answer any questions you might have."

The man regarded him without a word- watching every single mannerism, every detail. No introductions. No names. This was serious indeed.

"I want to know who you are, and what you want with me."

Turning from cordial to serious, the stranger pushed his food aside and clasped his hands together, elbows on the table. "Fair enough. Allow me to cut to the chase. I represent a group who feels that we share a common set of goals and ambitions- and let's just say you've impressed us so far," he weighed Anatolius with cold, blue eyes. "Impressed us so much, in fact, that we wish to provide you with an opportunity."

The red flag went up immediately. Another faction; another potential enemy he didn't have time to deal with. This stranger was clearly a spy… but an opportunity?

"I'm not quite sure what you're talking about."

The liaison stared at him knowingly. Like he knew he was lying.

"We know you want her."

Anatolius tensed at the word, but didn't outwardly show it. "Who's we?"

"Ever heard of the Greyrunners?"

All at once his stomach turned to ice.

The Greyrunners. Architects of the New World. The stuff of drunken campfire legends and wild rumors- he knew they existed, he just didn't think he'd ever live to see one in the flesh. They only make themselves known when they have to. When it's necessary. The stranger leaned back in his chair and let it sink in, eyes faintly sparkling as they caught the dim light.

"I may have."

"As a man of your talent no doubt would," he stopped talking as a couple passed by the table. "Now, it occurs to me that we share the same goal, yet our motives are driven by different forces. This gives us a unique chance to offer you a conditional partnership- you, and you alone. So tell me, Legionary, are you willing to do whatever it takes to get what you deserve?"

They would know everything about him. His name. Affiliations. There was no use hiding anything; all he could do was parlay, and hope he came out on top. This could be his chance to get ahead.

"I am. But why me?" He asked cautiously.

The stranger neatly dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a napkin, then reached into his coat pocket. When he found what he was looking for he set it on the table, leaning back in his chair again.

"Because we know your story."

Anatolius didn't respond. His focus was solely fixed on the table... on the gold coin resting in the middle. The ice shattered. Drifted and stabbed his insides- left him with numb nothingness. The feeling he was forced to live with every hour of every day.

"She took everything from you, didn't she?"

Finally breaking his gaze, the man looked down and studied his hands.

His family. His friends. His tribe. All gone, like dust on the wind.

"Yeah," he said absently. It was as if the meeting had already lost its importance- he felt resigned, jaded by the reminder. But then he remembered why he was here. An opportunity…

"Well, Anatolius, this is your lucky day."

His ears perked up in that moment, eyes meeting the stranger's.

"We're giving you a chance at revenge."