Ars writes: "Just a few feet in front of me stands a balding, wiry man who wants to kill me. He snaps at me with a loathsome tone for asking a line of ethical questions about his occupation of slave trader. Sun-weathered skin cracks around his mouth as he barks "get yer ass out of here if you don't like it then!" I relent and cool him down a bit. I inform him that I would like to inspect and possibly acquire several of his goods, but I am swiftly denied.
Perhaps he knows of my true intent, to rescue two children who have recently vanished from a neighboring shantytown. He hints to me that I can gain entrance to his slave pen if I offer him the right sum of caps, which are the legal tender in the Wastelands. Better yet, giving him a slave from a nearby town might improve my odds. I question whether I should even continue this harrowing discussion as I eye the road behind me."