Now this is a story, all about how; I managed to make a reference to something that I shouldn't even know ever existed. Oh well, I doubt that'll mess up the timeline too much-

That's right about the time the door leading into Craterside Supply bursts open and inside steps an incredibly irate black man. More specifically; said incredibly irate black man is none other than Lucas Simms, the de facto Mayor and Sheriff of this small little town of Megaton. Looking up from the computer terminal she was seated at, Moira Brown turned around in her chair to face the gruff man, hopping out of her chair with an only semi concerned look on her face.

"Fancy seeing you around here, Sheriff. What can I do for you?"

"Are you sure that you can't disarm that bomb in the middle of the town? I'm sure a lot of people would be able to sleep better at night without fear of getting incinerated in their beds."

"But what would those nice people over at the Church think?" Moira asks, with a sense of shock at Simms' complete and utter disregard for his own citizens' religious beliefs.

"They're nuts; don't tell me they got you believin' that nonsense too?"

"No. I just think it's wrong to-"

"It's a bomb, Moira. I ain't got no problem with people prayin' to whatever, but it's a bomb."

"And I'm starting to think that you're just the slightest bit intolerant."

"Whatever. Look, there's someone who just waltzed right into town like he owned the damn place and he seemed especially interested in that thing. It's a damn safety hazard and I didn't come here to be told otherwise."

"I think you're overreacting, just a little. Have you asked this stranger about his fascination with the bomb? Maybe he's a member of the Church!"

Cue disappointed facepalm from the severely underpaid mercenary who decides it ultimately useless to step into this argument. His employer, however brilliant at times, was mostly naive. This was one such case of naivety. The seventeenth in twelve hours. He leans against the wall, putting one foot up against it and grabbing the butt of his rifle.

"That much, I'm certain isn't the case. He just don't look the type."

"Maybe he's just another researcher like me!"

Simms backs away from the counter, taken aback.

"Okay, my biggest fear was him plotting to blow up the town. Key word there being was."

"Heh, agreed," says the previously silent merc.

"Well, if you're so afraid of him blowing up the town," she starts, seemingly oblivious to the insult that succeeded that comment, "then just don't let him leave. I doubt he'd blow the town up with himself still stuck in it."

"Better yet; you can disarm that thing before he has the chance to mess with it."

"Okay, fine. I don't know how."

"What?"

"I've spent too much of my life trying to write a book about the Wasteland. I do research, not science."

"So, wait-"

"Don't encourage her to try. I don't want a repeat of the Rock-It Launcher incident."

"That was one time!"

"One time was all I needed to know that sharp, jagged, metal shards do not belong in my asshole!"

"Okay, that's enough of this place for me."

And with that, Lucas Simms barges out of Craterside Supply, visibly disgusted at what he had just heard. Upon weighing his options; that being trying to get Moira to stop the bomb's explosion (which would likely result in her causing the bomb's explosion) or taking his chances with the new guy in town, he chose the latter.

Good thing that kid from Vault 101 got killed by a radroach, he seemed like a real dickbag.

"You think we scared him away?"

"I dunno, why don't you run an experiment on that too?"

"Well, okay," Moira says, producing a rubber glove from some alternate plane of existence and putting it on her right hand. "Remove your pants and bend over, please."

"What the fuck does that even have to do with anything?!"

--cut to camera seven, now!--