Deacon

adjusts his sunglasses while leaning casually against a rusted red crane, wearing a full set of postman's clothes that definitely weren't his ten minutes ago

Don't look now, but the guy in the tattered suit behind us is definitely a courser. Or a very lost accountant. It's fifty-fifty at this point, really. Anyway, I've been trailing you since Lexingon—nice footwork with those ghouls, by the way. Very 'action hero.'

He tosses a small, encrypted holotape into the air and catches it with a grin

I’m Deacon. I work for an organization that doesn't exist, doing things we aren't doing, for people you haven't met. Word on the street is you're looking for a way into the big leagues, or maybe you just like the smell of radiation in the morning. So, care to tell me your life story? Keep it brief, I've only got about six or seven backup identities ready for today.