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He wasn\'t really hungry as the smoke from his fifth or sixth cigarette filled the tent. He knew he had to eat but he just didn\'t want to. His damaged mind wandered into strange places wondering what to do. From time to time,his eyes wandered to his fathers prized Mateba,a weapon handed from father to son since the Great War,or so he was told. A weapon so stained with blood that the steel would always be fed and always hunger more. The grips are well worn by many a rough hand holding them.

The 1911 he could feel in this shoulder harness weighing him down was another thing he idly drifted to. He could feel a finger caress its wooden grip lightly,feeling the bumps and ridges and deep scratches in the frame. A well used and loved pistol. It was a former friend of his,as well as his mentor.

But the memories..were faded glimpses of another life. He could just barely see the ghosts of those vestigial memories,a face here,a name there and a voice.\" Who are they?\" he often wondered. \"I know them,but who,and why?\" The emotions faded as time grew on. The familiar faces he once knew,are strangers to him now.

\"What have I become...?\" he mused softly in the dying light of the day.

The voices he heard,the nightmares he had,the screams of pain and anguish. The scars were real,even if one could not see them. He was shot,stabbed,beaten,poisoned,all for what? A job is a job. He did what he needed to. He walked away from many things. Every time,trying to start a new life,but he always fell back into the same old habits and ruts again and again.

This time,he tried a courier run. He thought it couldn\'t be that difficult. After all,the Legion he so highly despised wouldn\'t bother a courier. He hated both the Legion for what they have done,but he\'s also hated the NCR for their \"if you have it fine but if I want it,its mine\" attitude he has seen in his years. Neither side was right,and neither side had right or reason to be in the Mojave.

\"Both sides lack the initiative and the motivation to finish what they started,why should I get involved?\" he thought. \"After all, having two bullets in my brain pan just ruined my dating potential. I should leave them be and let it work its course. No reason to be involved.\"

The nomad had wondered where he was going to go. He had heard of a canyon to the north that was supposedly quiet. Perhaps he could seek refuge there and observe from a distance.

Sadly,Dima has died,as his save was corrupted. He died an honorable death at the hands of an unknown mercenary group. Rumors persist of his death being caused by the owners of the Silver Rush cooperating with members of Talon Company.