The mercenaries exchanged glances, and their leader spoke:
"My name is Jeremy Martini, leader of the 'Black Dagger' mercenary group. We are twenty veterans and forty recruits strong. I can offer you much more than just these scraps. Over the decades, we've hoarded many interesting things, and more importantly—I know a couple of places where we can get robots. A lot of robots."
David grew interested, leaning forward. "How many robots, and what kind exactly?"
Jeremy Martini smiled. "There are two locations where we found a cluster of Protectrons. Both are in the sewers. Pre-war, they were used for construction, maintenance, and pest control. Both spots are currently infested with Mirelurks. We could clear them out, but it would take too much effort and ammo, so we left them be. But the main thing is there are 40 Protectrons—intact and functional—inside their charging pods. If you can buy them all, I can deliver them to you."
David thought for a moment, tapping his fingers on the table.
"Sounds promising. But besides the charging pods, there should be control terminals and various equipment: heavy copper wiring, likely a fusion generator, and possibly spare parts and maintenance tools. I want all of it! As for the price—I have enough money, but the exact value will be determined after inspection. I'm willing to roughly estimate a functional Protectron at 20,000 caps, and the pods at 5,000 each. They are useful, but not as complex as the robots themselves."
Jeremy Martini thought this was fantastic! No one had ever offered such a price. Usually, everyone tried to lowball them. If they sold all the robots, they could earn over 800,000 caps!
"I can offer an alternative as well," David continued, looking the mercenary in the eye. "Work for me. I can buy out your mercenary group. I believe I can upgrade your gear to combat armor for everyone and provide expensive, high-powered weaponry."
Jeremy Martini chuckled. "Thanks for the offer. I'll think about it, but for now, I want to keep my freedom. I can send my men right now to bring the rest of the tech we have for sale, if you're interested."
David nodded. "Of course!"
After a while, the mercenaries began bringing heaps of items: mostly old spare parts ranging from cars to household appliances. But the only things truly worth David's attention were the weapons, robots, and armor. These guys had even managed to snag Power Armor!
David asked, walking around the massive metal suits, "Where did you get Power Armor?"
Jeremy Martini grinned. "Those guys from the Brotherhood of Steel and the Enclave always look at us like dirt under their boots. One day, we spotted a Brotherhood squad searching a specific district. We identified an Enclave agent who thought his cover was blown-proof. We sat near him in a bar and 'accidentally' let it slip that a Brotherhood team had been digging around the steel mill for three days. The agent didn't miss the chance and reported it to his superiors. We just followed them and waited for the firefight to start. We lured them into a meat grinder, and the Brotherhood fanatics dealt heavy damage before they fell. We just used 12.7mm anti-materiel rifles with overcharged armor-piercing rounds to finish off the two surviving Enclave members from a distance. In the end, we walked away with 7 sets of damaged Power Armor. We can't use them, and we wouldn't dare wear them openly, but their weapons served us well until they broke. Energy weapons are powerful, but the ammo and repairs cost a fortune."
David nodded. "You're brave for not fearing their wrath. Though wearing that armor in public would be suicide. No wonder you didn't dare. But I'm different. I'm ready to buy it. Let's see... 3 sets of T-51b, 2 sets of X-01, one X-02, and one X-03. All riddled with holes from bullets, lasers, and plasma. If they were intact, they'd be worth at least 30,000 each, but given the state and the risk... I can offer 40,000 for the whole lot."
Next came the robots: 27 Protectrons, 5 Mr. Gutsys, 7 Mr. Handys, 3 Sentry Bots, 4 Assaultrons, 16 Securitrons, 43 Eyebots, and 8 Robobrains (the brains were clearly rotted). David inspected them all, knowing they were "totaled," and the price wouldn't be high.
After the inspection, David and Jeremy finalized the price: 74,000 caps and 100,000 NCR dollars. David also threw in 10,000 rounds of 5.56mm and 500 rounds of 12.7mm. David was thrilled; the weapons alone, once repaired, would be worth over 100,000 caps, and he had essentially bought the Power Armor for pennies.
After the deal, David started repairing. He began with the Assaultrons—perfect for security. After a week, he had fixed 4 Assaultrons, 8 Protectrons, 2 Mr. Gutsys, and 4 Mr. Handys. This was enough for a startup guard force. Now, two Assaultrons and four Protectrons guarded the vending machines, while a Mr. Handy managed the sales counter.
Word of David's business and his growing robot army spread throughout the region. Eventually, Mr. House himself took notice and sent a Securitron to invite David to the Lucky 38 for a private talk. David agreed and followed the robot to the penthouse, where Robert House's face appeared on a massive screen.
"Hello, David. I must admit, I am deeply impressed," House said. "At first, I worried you wouldn't manage your capital wisely. If you had just hoarded caps, you would have stifled the city's economy. But you exceeded my expectations by investing in technology and robots. I was surprised you could repair Assaultrons and acquire functional construction Protectrons. There aren't many of those left."
"So, you're interested in my robots?" David asked.
"Yes. I have Securitrons for defense, but construction models are a find. I want to buy them."
David smiled. "I'm sorry, but I won't sell. I plan to rent them out. I'm starting a construction business; I'll hire a few people, and the robots will do the heavy lifting."
"You have ambition," House replied. "Then rent them to me. I have projects: the sewers need clearing and repair, the Strip needs maintenance, and I need a wall built to protect the city. I'll rent them for 50,000 caps a month. Or, I can pay 10,000 and provide you with my full protection. Your business has made many people unhappy. Think about it."
David agreed, but noted he had no space for his 50 charging pods in the Vault. House offered the basement of the Lucky 38. David then proposed a 50/50 partnership in a joint construction firm. House agreed: for every 10 additional robots David provided, his share would increase by 1%. David also gained the right to live in the Lucky 38 penthouse.
After signing the contract, David returned to his workshop. He built a Robot Workbench, accessing blueprints from Fallout 4 (including DLCs) that were somehow stored in his system. Using his level 21 perks (Science!, Robotics Expert, Gun Nut, Armorer), he began mass-producing. He didn't need full chassis anymore—just processors. He had 164 of them. The system allowed him to "print" components like quantum-thread processors inside the workbench using gold, silver, and copper.
He decided to drip-feed 10–15 robots a month to the company to avoid suspicion from the NCR or the Brotherhood. He kept his combat robots hidden, not wanting to tip the balance of power too early.
David then set his sights on the H&H Tools Factory. It was much larger than in the game, surrounded by the remnants of a fence. He bypassed floor mines, deactivated hostile robots with a metal net trick, and hacked the central mainframe. He wiped the old user logs and set himself as the sole owner.
"Hello, Sir. You've finally returned. I've waited over 150 years," said a reactivated Mr. Handy.
David used his "Build Mode" to clear the factory of scrap in hours, gaining tons of steel, wood, and concrete. He released 50 robots from his inventory to demolish nearby ruins for materials. Within days, the factory was renovated: new walls, clean facilities, and a 3-meter-thick reinforced concrete perimeter wall with 30 laser turrets. He added vending machines for ammo, rockets, mines, and grenades.
Soon, an NCR caravan passed by. "Mike, look at all those machines!" one shouted. They stopped, traded their useless calibers for fresh 10mm rounds, and David's industrial empire officially began to breathe.