"When did a survivor settlement suddenly pop up in the northern suburbs?"
"No idea. It's been a month since Voice of Boulder City mentioned this place. I thought those hillbillies in the northern suburbs hadn't made it through the winter."
"Wasn't this place a forest last year? I remember there being a raider stronghold to the north and mutant territory to the east."
"You've been here?"
"Just once."
At the southern gate of the outpost.
Several rifle-toting mercenaries curiously sized up the little town hidden in the woods, passing the time by guessing how many people lived there.
Some said a hundred, others said a thousand. No one could agree.
Not far from them stood two men in formal wear. Though they were not gawking like the mercenaries, their faces still showed a measure of surprise.
Of course, that faint surprise could not fully conceal the arrogance beneath their brows.
Even though their formal clothes had been washed until faded and the buttons sewn back on time and again, they were still more refined than these wastelanders dressed in furs.
Blue coats were another matter.
Those Vault residents born with silver spoons in their mouths were an exception.
Even the citizens living within the great walls had to admit that those blue coats living in iron cages were highborn folk worthy of standing on equal footing with them.
"Have you ever seen blue coats building houses on the surface?"
"No, but the fact that they actually allow wastelanders to live above their heads is strange enough already."
The two engineers exchanged a few quiet words.
For 1,200 chips a month, with food and lodging included, they kept their voices low enough that only they could hear each other.
You did not offend the benefactor who paid your wages.
On the