I've gone from being a vengeful father to a war profiteer. A ripened psychopath on the road to profit.
Where once stood Sanctuary is now my very own Ice Mountain. A cornucopia of Dasani. My water purifiers black out the sky and rows of pumps go as far as the eye can see. The same fate has befallen the Drive-In.
The Red Rocket gas station has grown into a Vegetable Starch plantation. My slaves work the fields day and night, growing my corn, tato and mutfruit crops. Sleeping quarters consist of a large wooden car port with a dozen tattered sleeping bags underneath.
Yes, my friends, I am the wasteland Romney. AMERICA WILL NOT FALL. PRAISE BE TO REAGAN!
I'll defend my riches with the Brotherhood of Steel. I'll bleed heart for The Railroad in public to earn social brownie points. All the while calling the shots behind the scenes with The Institute giving fuck-all about social issues or human purity. The only things I care about are caps.
GOD BLESS AMERICA.