The commanding view from the balcony, magnificent in the dusky violet of sunset, did nothing to distract Mr. Burke from the fading burn on his finger. It no longer hurt, but he couldn't stop remembering how he got it—or more specifically, who he got it from.

He couldn't get Moira Brown off his mind. For the past fortnight she'd been uppermost on his thoughts, so many small, innocuous moments of their brief time together replaying endlessly in his memories.

Working together on the fusion pulse charge, a slip of the hand bringing about the accidental collision of digit and soldering iron. The pain of the incident was quickly eclipsed by the exciting feel of her lips on his skin and the amusing mumble of explanation given past a mouthful of finger—This always makes my burns feel better.

The bemusement, confusion, and sweet naivety in her eyes when he could contain his laughter no longer as he listened to the spectacularly bad results of past experiments. How was I supposed to know the centaur would think my assistant smelled so tasty? still made him chuckle as he paced the quiet corridors of Tenpenny Tower.

The flashes of inspired genius he bore firsthand witness to as she embraced the scientific experiment they were about to conduct, the full magnificence and potential of her brilliant mind staggering to behold. Yet she terrified and unnerved him at the same time. He still hoped his injunction—that working as her partner rendered him invalid from participating in any and all of her studies, either with or without his consent—managed to make an impression.

No matter how he tried, he couldn't put her from his thoughts. Not when her items arrived in a subtly slow stream, sent in bits and pieces through the traders and caravans. Each day brought another treasured piece of junk, half-finished invention, or carton full of potentially useful parts she hadn't found a use for—yet.

Each day he waited, up high where the filth and grit of the wastes couldn't reach, wondering if it would be the day she finally arrived. More than just the anticipation of seeing another project through to completion interfered with his sleep and stole his attention away.

Much to his surprise, he found he wanted—needed—to see her again.

The distant static of the patched-together intercom crackled in the hallway, the sound twisting and thinning as it wended off the walls of the suite until it mutated into something greasily horrid, like bloatflies sizzling in salvaged motor oil. Mr. Burke held his breath, trying to make out the faint conversation between the guard by the suite door and Chief Gustavo. It took longer than usual, and at the first creak of the chair as the guard stood up he felt galvanizing excitement race down his spine. Before the guard even opened his mouth Mr. Burke already knew.

She'd arrived.

Suddenly the protracted hours of restless waiting evaporated, replaced immediately with an unfamiliar impulse to hurry. Ridiculous—clearly, everything was arranged and there remained nothing left to do but send the momentous pulse racing through the evening sky—yet he couldn't shake the giddy anticipation, almost childish in its earnestness, at the news of her arrival.

Grabbing the detonator, slumbering dangerously in its metal briefcase, Mr. Burke went to rouse Alistair Tenpenny. He'd once considered the man a partner, a fellow visionary ready to shape the wastes into a better, brighter future through force of will and cunning plans. The older man had been mentor and general, guide and friend.

Except time and success mellowed the fires of ambition, Mr. Tenpenny content to live in his self-styled monument to his own magnificence. His name, connections, and wealth still opened many doors Mr. Burke would otherwise have to get through, go around, or blast open. Despite the power and influence Tenpenny brought to the table, Mr. Burke found the burden of organizing projects from conception to completion falling heavier onto his shoulders until he essentially bore it alone.

Not that he'd complain, finding a satisfying sort of pleasure in having complete control. Still, he couldn't help wondering what it would be like to have a compatriot—more clever than a minion, more useful than an underling, more responsible than a commander. Someone who could make his ideas bigger, better, with more of an impact than ever...

"Wow! This tower really does tower over the wastes, doesn't it?"

Two weeks ago Mr. Burke would have shuddered at the gleefully happy voice and wickedly awful pun, but now he couldn't manage anything worse than a smile. Making quick work of the introductions—Moira Brown a charmingly dust-caked mass of scientific enthusiasm and bubbling personality, Alistair Tenpenny a jaded mass of fine scotch and indolent idleness—he wasted no time in coaxing everyone out to the balcony.

Flipping open the metal briefcase, click of the latches heralds of impending triumph, Mr. Burke reflected on the beauty of the evening. With the sun's rays withered to a weak gloom, and the sky above the jagged outline of Megaton already thick with night, the true majesty of another successful plan would be displayed in its full glory.

"Ah. The anticipation is palpable, isn't it?" he commented as Tenpenny sank into his chair with an air of impatience, and Moira stepped beside him, seemingly vibrating with inquisitive excitement. With the smug good humour of the victor, he indicated the portentous scarlet knob to her. "When you have finished savoring the moment, you may have the honor of pressing the button."

"All the preparations were completed?" she asked, hand hovering over the detonator. It dipped closer, then jerked right back up as she asked another question. "And my terminal? You've got it? Wouldn't want to lose my notes and have to do all that research again—"

"Already set up for you," he assured her, attentively watching the grit-smudged hand descend ever closer...

Her hand flew up in a frustrating burst of scientific concerns."But what about the sensors? The thermometers? And anemometers? And Geiger counters? And electromagnetic—"

"All in place." He'd seen to it all of the data she wanted—measuring things he hadn't known could be quantified—would be gathered with as much accuracy as the circumstances allowed. He'd even gone so far as to hire Talon Company mercs to guard her odd devices from raiders and supermutants, as they had to be spaced at specific intervals throughout the uninhabited wastes. Arranging to pay them only for the devices that returned had been a clever negotiating success—more than likely the first few clusters of gizmos and mercs would be vaporized, bringing the cost under budget.

Not that he'd been especially thrifty in other areas where Moira was concerned: arranging for her to use the newly completed penthouse suite beside his own—a mere coincidence; acquiring every mechanical, scientific, or simply unusual piece of esoterica from the shops and passing caravans with thoughts of her creative inspiration—or surprised delight; programming Godfrey to accept her instructions—limited, restricted, hazard-free ones only, of course.

"Well, it's not like you can conduct an experiment on this scale every day," she lectured, somehow managing a sternly chipper tone. "After all, it's very important research—"

Seizing her hand, he pressed it down until one grease-stained fingertip rested on the trigger. "And you play the most important role of all. Hit the switch!" he urged, sensing a shared excitement pass between them. "Oh, and mind your eyes," he quickly added, "it'll be brighter than bright."

"Right, my lucky shades!" she exclaimed, patting the pockets of her faded jumpsuit with her free hand. Finding the sought-after accessory, she pulled out a pair of novelty sunglasses with white plastic frames and lenses shaped into stars. She slipped them into place, the cheerful absurdity of them somehow fitting. "Thanks! You're already a super research partner!"

Looking up to the horizon, she straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, and destroyed a town without lifting a finger—she did it by pushing with a finger instead.

Mr. Burke felt her do it, the hand holding hers to the detonator left there as the pulse raced through the air, faster than he'd ever imagined, improbably fast. The explosion—staggeringly, awesomely, superlatively powerful—seemed to happen instantaneously with that one tiny dip of her grubby finger. Megaton, long cursed blight on the horizon, disappeared in a flash of light and heat. A glowing mushroom cloud sprouted, grew, and flourished in the filth of the town below.

Awestruck by the haunting beauty of it, he didn't notice Tenpenny leave soon after, already bored with the novelty. Mr. Burke remained there with Moira, both of them soaking in every moment of it, thoughts meaningless compared to the simple, overwhelming amazement from merely bearing witness to the spectacle.

As the cloud dissipated and the fog of dust hovering over the wasteland began to settle, he finally found his voice. "My God...what transcendent beauty...what purifying light...."

"Yeah, explosions sure are pretty." Moira, roused from her trance of observation, let out a deeply contented sigh.

"It was a wonderful thing you did. Inspirational. Truly." Managing to look away from the shadow impression of explosion hanging in his vision, he took in the sight of Moira, wearing her comical shades and beaming with pride.

Realizing he still held her hand pressed to the detonator, he lifted it off, stole one last glance at the glorious nothingness that used to be Megaton, and herded Moira back inside. The afterglow of success beyond his wildest imaginings warmed his voice. "That place, those people... necessary sacrifices in paving the way towards progress."

The soporific spell the explosion cast on her mind wore off, her imagination and tongue racing as quickly as ever. "Now I can finally see how my own home-made rad-cure concoction handles that nasty radiation," she jabbered. "I've never had a chance to test it out on people so heavily dosed, but I'm sure it'll work out fine. Exciting, isn't it?"

Mr. Burke nodded, feeling too content to concern himself with pointing out the residents she planned to conduct her tests on were nothing but radioactive particles and unpleasant memories. However, he'd be more than happy to direct any Talon Company mercs suffering a radiation hangover from her little 'experiment' in her direction.

He'd already budgeted for a generous amount of research assistants, test subjects, and human guinea pigs to hire for her needs. Considering it a form of insurance on his continued good health, he hoped it would keep her from ever appraising him as a candidate for her studies.

"Of course, with that much radiation there might be other effects to contend with," Moira continued, musing out loud as she tucked her sunglasses back in her pocket. "Some might not just be suffering from radiation poisoning..." Turning to Mr. Burke with a gasp, she clutched his arm in excitement. "Why, some might even be turning into ghouls!"

"Ghouls?" he repeated with revulsion as he led her down the hallway to her suite. Much as he wanted to encourage her extraordinary researches, he did have his limits. Wasting time and resources attempting to aid aberrations of nature certainly fell outside those boundaries.

"This is amazing!" Moira chirped, oblivious to the snide curl of his lip. "Oh, I always was curious to do some tests involving Ghouls."

Stopping abruptly in front of her suite door, Mr. Burke took a long, scrutinizing look at the woman he'd invited into his home, his work, and his plans. Moira grinned happily back at him, green eyes alight with thoughts of new discoveries, auburn hair haphazardly gathered into a ponytail, jumpsuit covered in wasteland dust, and hands still grimy with mechanical, chemical, and organic substances.

Past the innocent exterior he could see her for what she truly was—the most callous, subtle, creative murderer he'd ever had the pleasure to work with. She didn't fool him for a second—he knew exactly what types of tests she wanted to conduct on Ghouls, and just what fates awaited her volunteers.

He found in her the perfect, most glorious partner. With an incandescent mind, more luminous than the bomb blast, together they would light up the wasteland, turning Tenpenny Tower into a beacon of civilization and hope.

Already she was contributing, unaware of the ghoul problem in the basement—a trifling matter in the face of her applied genius.

"Welcome home," he stated. A quick twist of the key and turn of the knob revealed the unique suite, furnished for a most unique woman.

Moira, already overexcited from the explosion, never stopped exclaiming or moving once the door swung open. Mr. Burke watched as each new surprise or delight set her off again, the enticing enigma of a brilliant killer wandering through her new home with all the innocence and wonder of a child.

Her first shock came upon seeing Godfrey, the robot's personal greeting eliciting a stunned wow. After she managed to pull herself away from the machine, she prowled through the spacious room, admiring the arrangement of the items she'd sent ahead with further wows—console set up on a desk, junk stacked neatly on shelves, toolboxes arranged around a large workspace. The things she hadn't brought with her seemed to cause twice as many wows, Moira able to name most of the bits and pieces by sight alone.

Considering the traders he purchased them from hadn't a clue what they were called, Mr. Burke was quite impressed.

As she wandered off to explore the bathroom, exclaiming with delight over the purified water flowing from the tap, Mr. Burke popped open the working nuka-cola machine in the corner. He didn't doubt she'd soon fill it with many inedible substances—he wouldn't be surprised if she promptly cycled every bit of junk in the room through it, carefully noting the effect of cold on each item—but for the moment it housed only a chilled pair of tumblers.

"Try washing your hands in it," he called to her as he poured out a measure of whiskey into each ice-frosted glass.

Moira emerged soon after, water splashed all over her jumpsuit, her face and hands the cleanest he'd ever seen. She moved to take the offered beverage, but didn't get past a low set of shelves by the bathroom door before exclaiming in delight. "A radiphlange!" Picking up a small metal gadget, similar in his eyes to the innumerable metal gadgets she already owned, she held it tenderly in her hands, admiring it as she walked over to him. "I've been looking for one of these for years! This is all so..." she gestured around the room with her treasured radiphlange, lost for words. Finally, she settled for a heartfelt, "Wow!"

Mr. Burke held out her glass. She tucked the prized radiphlange into her pocket before accepting the offer. "Moira," he purred, every word slow and measured, warm and meaningful, "I mentioned the limitless extent of my gratitude, and I am a man of my word. You should be proud of your accomplishments. You've more than earned your reward."

"Thank you, Mr. Burke," she replied, hint of flush creeping up her neck.

"No, my dear Moira, that will not do." He grabbed hold of her free hand and stepped a shade closer to her, watching her cheeks redden in a full-out blush. "This is a partnership, after all. Please, call me Lucien."

"Thank you, Lucien."

He nodded in satisfaction, raising his glass in a toast, the fingers of his other hand twining through hers until their palms pressed together. "Here's to a better future. Here's to...us."

Their cold glasses clinked, celebrating their current triumph and the many successes yet to come. Standing there, enjoying an ice-frosted tumbler of fine whiskey, with an exciting, enchanting, unpredictable, and all around entertaining woman in front of him, he couldn't keep from noticing the stains still on her hands—grime under the fingernails, smudges on the back of her knuckles, marks on her thumb.

Her hands might not be clean, and they might never get clean, but so long as they were dirty with the hard work of creating a better future for mankind—for them—he realized he wouldn't want them any other way.