It was in a bar in the Twilight Quarter of New Vegas that someone offered to sell me some mummy

dust. Genuine bona fide Martian mummy dust, no questions asked, guaranteed to get my old fella
up and please the woman or man all night long, no complications. At first I simply stared into the
bottom of my schooner, filled with premium beer, the thought going through my mind was “Why do
I attract these freaking weirdos?” Then I looked sideways at the dust peddler.

Depending on whether the product is genuine or not, some peddlers have been busted dealing sand,
coloured soap powder or even just regular cocaine and speed, dust peddling is a serious offence. It
all depends on whee the peddler’s dealers got their product from. The Chinese tend to deal with dust
peddlers like any other drug dealer, they get arrested and face the death penalty. The Eurasian
authorities adopt a similar stance, though the death penalty is waived in favour of hard labour or a
substantial prison term. The Corporations though eliminate dust peddlers where ever they find
them, at least that’s the story in the Corporate Territories.

Naturally most peddlers if they’re known are wanted by a whole raft of law enforcement agencies,
not to mention artefact reclamation services, criminal syndicates, private interests and the
corporations. My bounty interface automatically scanned this bozo, a millisecond later his face was
overlaid in my field of vision with a wanted poster. The guy was listed as one Pierre the Rat, wanted
for predominantly dust peddling, fraud and some petty larceny charges. The total bounty was two
hundred thousand euro, three hundred thousand new yen and one hundred and fifty thousand yuan.

“Pierre it’s not your lucky day,” I said clapping one hand on his shoulder while I swiftly pulled a
gun on him. “We can either do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice.”
His eyes bulged, this was not what he had been expecting.
“You’re a bounty hunter?” He sounded shocked and affronted at the same time, as if I had somehow
mislead him in some way.
“No I’m a door to door salesman, of course I’m a bounty hunter idiot. Now we going to do this nice
and calmly or are you going to make a scene?”
He tensed, my hand on his shoulder could feel it. Eyes still bulging he looked as if he was going to
make a break.
“Look, make a break for it and I’ll put enough bullets in you they’ll be scraping you off the floor,
walls etc. Take things nice and easy who knows you might get off,” I said. Switching my gun to
rock and roll was not a good move and I was not planning on doing it. But he didn’t know that. He
slumped in his seat realising he’d been caught.
“Good call,” I said, then pinged station security that I had a wanted target that they should take into
custody.

Fifteen minutes later New Vegas Security showed up to take Pierre off my hands, three hundred
thousand new yen were deposited into my account. Not bad work, and the good thing was I got to
savour my premium beer while waiting for security to take my target off my hands. Nothing like
enjoying a brew after a successful take down. Made sweeter by the fact that it was totally
unplanned, a genuine bonus.

I gestured for the bar tender.

“Sorry about the hassle earlier on, here is a little something for the trouble.” I handed him a hundred
euro. “Oh and could I have another?” I said gesturing with my empty schooner. He snapped up the
hundred, grabbed my glass and gave me a refill.
The second tasted just as good as the first, but I was going to have to sit on it. I usually limit myself
to two drinks when meeting up with a contact. Granted my implants can deal with handling any
excessive alcohol intake but I generally only use it when I want to get on a bender, and that usually

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in the confines of my own abode. Not in a bar, and especially not one in the Twilight Quarter of
New Vegas. After sitting there for ninety minutes, I downed the second beer in a quick skull,
savouring the taste then leaving a tip before departing.

Outside I caught a glimpse of myself, a lanky figure with an eye patch covering his left eye, unruly
black hair wearing a loud old style Hawaiian shirt over a plain khaki t shirt, black jeans and dark
blue sneakers. Naturally I looked like the kind of mark a peddler would hit, people probably
assumed I was a tourist or possibly a spacer on leave. It was definitely a contrast to my usual garb.
A seasoned eye would have spotted the shoulder holster and the back holster, both with high calibre
handguns. As I briefly glanced at my reflection I noticed several others looking at me from across
the way. They were seated in the outside area of a restaurant across the way, there was three of them
and while they tried to conceal the fact that they were scoping me, they failed dismally.

I pinged my partner Moonlight.

“Yo, the contact was a no show and now I’m getting the evil eye from three wannabe Baba Yagas.”
“You haven’t pissed anyone off have you? Christ I thought I told you not to cause trouble when
meeting someone.”
“Hey I just busted some dust peddler for a cool three hundred thousand new yen. Be proud of me,
praise me.”
There was silence on the other end of the link. Moonlight was probably verifying my story via
various means arcane and mundane.
“You’ve just handed over a player in the Organitzaya’s peddling operation. I suspect the three
gentlemen are from that esteemed group and wish to have words with you about your choice to
hand him over.”
“Phew, for a minute there I thought you were going to say he was my contact and then proceed to
chew me out.”
“I’ll do that when you get back asshole.”
The link closed.

The Organitzaya in terms of clout is really a bit player in the grand scheme of things, its no Krasny
Soyuz or La Famiglia Terranova. Still it controls a sizeable chunk of crime here on New Vegas.
Word on the street is that the Org as it’s often called is a feeder for Krasny Soyuz. Though glancing
at the three goons who were crossing the street to have words with me I found the concept hard to
believe. Mentally I dubbed the three, Rooster, Block and Ferret. Chicken because he had a Mohawk
that was red and looked more like a roosters cockscomb, Block because he looked like a concrete
block and probably could take a lot of punishment and Ferret looked like his namesake.

As they approached I gazed at them with the eye. Naturally being Org goons they had priors. Crime
wise they were serious, grievous bodily harm, assault and battery, that kind of thing. But given that
the victims were probably ordinary citizens the reward money was not high. None of these three
rated a bounty totalling over ten thousand in any currency. They were menaces, but minor ones in
the eyes of the law. Naturally as Org goons they felt they were cock of the walk, they formed a semi
circle in front of me looking to be intimidating.

“Anything I can help you guys with?” I said. I kept my hands out in the open.
“Yeah,” said Rooster, who had a rather squeaky voice. “Our boss wants to talk to you.”
“And why would I want to talk to your boss?”
“Because this peep’s probably something precious too ya dumbass,” said Block brandishing a tablet
in my face with the image of a person bound and gagged.

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The eye pinged her as my contact. Of course it would have to end up this way. Still things could be
potentially salvaged. I’d have to make the effort if I didn’t want to get chewed out by Moonlight,
and that was something I definitely did not want to have occur, under any circumstances.
“Yeah I know this person, so what’s the caper then?”
“You’re going to meet with our boss, he’ll tell you what will happen. Try any funny biz and the girl
gets it. You dig.”
“I understand amigo.”

A cab suddenly pulled up alongside. As if by magic. We all got into said cab and thus began a
farcical drive around much of the Twilight Quarter foraying now and then into the Strip and then
into the Industrial Sector with the odd drive by into Nihonmaru. It was a joke really, considering
that my eye was taking note of all the landmarks and the fact that they’d never bothered to block my
link back to Moonlight. What I saw, she saw, and that meant I didn’t need to worry about
navigation, she’d work out precisely where I was.

At some point the magical mystery tour ended and the cab stopped outside a nondescript multistory
building on the very outskirts of the Twilight Quarter. We exited, the cab took off heading back
towards the fleshpots of the greater quarter and Nev Vegas in general. No one was around other than
the four of us. The eye didn’t detect the presence of drones or other surveillance. It was in effect a
blank zone, perfect for illegal operations and shady dealing. It also meant it was perfect for me to
deal with the goons cramping me.

Rooster, Block and Ferret never saw it coming. How could they? They were just Org goons with
bootleg gear if at best and piss poor training so they were never going to be able to counter me. I
swiftly dispatched them without breaking a sweat. The only person who was likely to miss them
was their boss who relied on them to keep his clients in line. It wasn’t worth shooting them, as I
expend more money on shooting than I’d gain from the bounties. And none of these punks were
wanted alive. Still chump change is better than no change.

I didn’t bother opening the door, I kicked it open with maximum force, the thing shattered. That
indicated that the building I was entering was not worth the money expended on building it.
Seriously shoddy construction which was to be expected of a group like the Org, they skimped on
those things with their facilities when they felt it wasn’t worth their while. Splinters sprayed ahead
of me I sauntered into the ground floor area.

There was no furnishings of any sort, just naked building. Obviously the place was either up for sale
or it had been kept vacant so the Org could use it for various reasons. There was a flight of stairs
leading up to the next level. But that didn’t matter, boss man and two more of his cronies along with
my contact were all here at ground floor. Boss man looked like he stepped off the set of a really
cheesy porno what with the bling, hairy chest, tight pants, open neck shirt. His goons were similarly
attired though with less bling. My eye pegged him as Igor Grishenko, head of the Org’s dust
peddling ring. One million euro, new yen or yuan reward. My contact was handcuffed, gagged and
seated on an old crate between the goons.

“Nice place you have here,” I said gazing around. I could smell the aroma of urine, vomit and other
unsavoury smells. Chances are people had been squatting in this building at some stage, but the Org
had either driven them off or killed them.
“You’re gonna hand over the bounty from Pierre the Rat and then you’re gonna spring him from the
cells...otherwise your friend here gets it.” Boss man had a deep melodious voice that felt like being

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covered in liquid honey, it was the voice of a top notch singer, shame it was being used by a
gangster who dealt in dubious product.
“The three stooges didn’t cause me to break a sweat, they’re out front busted up if they haven’t
already scarpered. You sunshine are worth a million, dead or alive, the two bozos are chump
change. I can take you before you harm a hair on my contacts head.”
To prove my point both guns were out and pointed at the targets. And like that bozo one, bozo two
both toppled to the ground. Boss man looked at what happened, which was a mistake so I double
tapped him and he fell to the floor.

It was quick work getting the cuffs unlocked. Boss man had the keys. My contact pulled the gag out
of her mouth and used ti to rub some of the blood splatter from her face. She had a worn old cap on
her head and wore equally worn coveralls with the name Velasquez Mechanics stencilled on the left
hand side in cursive script.

“Shit I knew I shouldn’t have used a public terminal to call,” she muttered still trying to get some of
the blood off her face.
“Why would that have made difference?”
“The Org’s got their grubby hands on the comms here in this part of the station, so they spooks
know who is calling whom. And contents of the calls.”
“Ah so they knew I’d grabbed Pierre the Rat, they knew I was meeting you and hence this sorry
mess,” I said kicking the boss man’s corpse.
“Shit this is going to be a problem, you think Grace will help me out of this?”
“Moonlight sent me to meet with you for just that reason, she said your talents were wanted dirstide
on Mars. So it’s your lucky day.”
“Well it looks like it’ll be some time before I’m back here then.”
“I have to admit I didn’t think this whole meet was going to be anything special, but it’s certainly
been a decent pay day for minimal effort.

A few minutes of talking to Moonlight (I never knew her real name was Grace) to convince her to
put a secure call into New Vegas Security. Then after that the mechanic and I waited for security to
show up, they confirmed the deed, money was deposited, I took euro for boss man. They began to
clean up the site and we got an escort to the port where Moonlight was waiting aboard the
Empyrean Solitaire. Once aboard we departed New Vegas and set a course for the Red Planet. That
was the drop off for our new passenger.

Ms Velasquez it appeared was in high demand by several corporations, a gifted mechanic, several
Mecha combat & race teams were bidding for her talents. Moonlight though had gotten a nice fat
offer from one team in particular and that offer was the one she took. It was also appealing to Ms
Velasquez. So several days later we dropped her off in Albion City where she was picked up by
officials from Dyson Robotics. Job done.