Vault 62 - Prologue

"Bring me another one, Micheal." Walken stated, crushing his can and putting it in his pile of debris. He'd been there a few hours now, and the sun had just started to rise.
"How about my money, first." Micheal glared at the mercenary, his scowl plain on his face.
"He's on me, barkeep." The stranger tossed a small burlap bag over and behind the bar. Walken looked at the man, and felt uneasy about him. He wore spurs on his boots, goggles over his eyes, a mechanical prosthetic on his right arm, and rolled up papers in his pouches. "Hello, Walken." He stated with a smirk. Walken-suspecting the man to be of a rival gang of bounty hunters, brandished his rifle and was almost ready to fire. Unfazed, the man raised his arms. "It's okay Walken, I'm not here to kill you. Just the opposite." He lowered his arms back down, leaning on the makeshift bar.
"What do you want, stranger?"
"My name is Zachariah Uriel, and I am in need of your services in protecting me and my ward." Micheal slid the bottle of beer to Zachariah, who slid it back over to Walken. He lowered his rifle, uncapped the bottle and took a swig. The ale went down his throat and he set the bottle down, looking at Zachariah.
"Alright, where are we going?"
"We're going to Vault 62."

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