April 13th, 2305- Twenty years after the spread of the Beauveria Mordicana infection

Robert House's console lit up as he exhaled a sigh, security cameras looking out showing the declining Vegas beyond the Strip. "Victor, has my message been properly dispatched to the airwaves?" Victor replied in his usual chipper tone, "Sure thing, Boss. Been about a day by my reckoning. Saw a couple stranger types looking people talking to Swank, didn't look like gamblers." House's rose in approval, "Well done, Victor. One last thing, I'd like you to send a Securitron to the Ultra-Luxe. Tell him to tell the Doorman that Mr. House wants Alexander to come to the Presidential Suite of the Tops at his next available moment." Victor swapped Securitrons, the bot reverting to a standard Mk II model.

At the Tops, Swank was used to outsiders looking to get away from the harsh world outside the Strip since the Outbreak. He was in a double-briasted suit, welcoming people asking about Mr. House's job. "Hey pal, here about the job from the Big Man? Sure, just sign in to the register. Just like that, alright. Good. Here's the key to your room on the 10th floor of the Tops. Mr. House has that floor rented out, so each room is someone possibly on the job, so try and get along, dig? Good. Mr. House'll be calling you all in the morning. He even reopened the Vegas Lounge, a restaurant that's been locked off for a while for you guys. Make sure you rest well, wake up call comes at 7:00 tomorrow morning. Mr. House'll get you all in the Presidential Suite, until then, relax and have a thousand chips on the the house, courtesy of Mr. House."