Hello and welcome to my story. This is my first one so I keep that in mind if it seems like it's missing something or if it's kinda lacking in quality in other areas, it will get better as we go on. I have taken some creative liberties with some of the tech and the power armor mentioned in the story is done in the style of Fallout 4. I would like to thank Spirited Gorilla for being my Beta monkey.
Without further delay I present to you Black Devil Ashikabi.

DISCLAIMER :I do not own anything but my OC.

"Words"
'Thoughts'
"Talking in another language"
[ Talking over radio/phone ]
-

Sergeant Joshua Blackburn was not having a good day. He was on his way back to Raven Rock from leaving some supplies in the nearby settlements. He knew that if the Enclave wanted to begin rebuilding the Capital Wasteland they would have to win the hearts and minds of the locals.
He had tried to bring this up to his superiors but that had gone poorly. The brass had decided that the locals were not worth the effort and that it would be easier to just wipe them out and then slowly expand. He had pointed out that not only would it take far too long for that to work but the sheer amount of resources would be best spent elsewhere.
They had reacted like anyone used to having their orders followed and asses kissed would, they sent him on "Deep reconnaissance." I.e. they sent him, alone, to explore the wastes. He was glad that he had taken the time to win the local wastelanders' trust so he could have detailed knowledge of the local terrain and hazards. He did not wish to die like Pvt. Jenkins did when he found and pissed off a small pack of Deathclaws.
He had only survived due to the fact he had thrown a mini nuke at them as they mauled Jenkins and then shot it with his laser rifle. He didn't bother to try to salvage any of Jenkins' kit.

He sighed, he had planned on trying to find the Lone Wanderer and warn him about the upcoming plans the Enclave had for him. He was not doing it out of the kindness of his heart, the Wanderer was second only to the local Brotherhood chapter in public trust and loyalty. If he had managed to gain his trust then it would be much easier for him to do his job. But no, the brass decided to kidnap him, take him to their secret base and then try to convince him to sabotage the purifier. The Wanderer's response to that had been to wipe the base from the face of existence. He was glad that he had his X-01 power armor with its air conditioning along with the protection to the wastes. He was also happy to have his laser rifle and two sidearms. His rifle was a modified AER09 with a scope along with an advanced recycler so he could actually last out in the wastes. The recycler was a work of his own, it recycled the cells much more efficiently. Meaning as long as he didn't lose the cells they would fully recharge given sufficient time. His sidearms were a modified plasma defender with scope and adv. recycler and a family heirloom 12.7mm handcannon his father had affectionately called "Li'l Devil."

The bases lack of continued existence left him without any supplies besides what he had on him and in the supply caches he had dotting the nearby landscape. He was currently on his way to the cache that he had left at MDPL-13 Power station. It was there he noticed the bent power lines.

'Odd, wonder what could have caused that.' He toggled the magnetic strip he had on the back of his armor to drop his laser rifle into his waiting hands. He flicked the safety and brought his rifle into a ready position and started north towards the bent power lines. His head on a constant slow swivel to scan for hostile contacts, he had to be cautious due to the approaching dusk giving potential threats plenty of considering it was still too bright for Night Vision.
Once he was at the tower he looked around and noticed that his radio had detected a signal nearby, it was coming in from north of his current position. He slowly approached the source of the signal and was meet by the strangest sight, a crashed UFO. It had carved a small trench into the earth starting with a shack that seemed to have offended it. Even better was the dead little yellowish-green alien, right in front of it.
He checked his suits HUD, 'No rads so I'm not losing it, and I'm not dehydrated.' He thought to himself. Giving a mental shrug he walked closer to investigate and noticed once he was 20ft away that his suit's geiger counter started ticking. He looked around until he spotted a hole in the hull that was leaking fluids. 'That must be the source of it.' His armor could deal with the current level of rads, any higher though and he would have to pull back.

He walked up to the dead alien and crouched down to get a better look.
Using a stick he moved the body around, noting how light it was. He figured that the alien had died on impact, but just to be sure he pulled his combat knife out of its boot sheathe and rammed it into the base of the skull and where he guessed the heart to be, just to be sure. The Wasteland had taught him to always assume that the unknown would likely to try to kill him.

It was then when his armor's enhanced hearing detected the sounds of small group walking in power armor. It sounded like they were 40ft away, approaching from the south.
'Not Enclave, any survivors from Raven Rock wouldn't head this way. Raiders don't have power armor. Brotherhood? That seemed more likely, but they're based in the city. They don't have the manpower to patrol this far.'
While he was deep in thought he took cover in the ruins of the shack, trusting the black paint of his armor to help conceal him. Few seconds later the contacts crested the hill. Their armor painted black and red with the Brotherhood insignia displayed proudly.
'Outcasts.' He thought with disgust. He had spotted them a few times he had gone close to the city and later found out the split in the Brotherhood due to Elder Lyons having a change of heart about the people in the wastes. He took particular joy from killing them and taking their rifles and ammo for his supply caches. Just as much as for pissing them off as it was for being pragmatic.
He left the dog tags, but he took the time to inscribe a small devil's head into the back just so they knew it was him in a roundabout way killing their squads. The same symbol that was on his armor, opposite the Enclave E. He counted five Outcasts, a fireteam. Two of them had heavy weapons, a missile launcher and a minigun, he would neutralize them first. The last three had laser rifles. He noted the small helix on the rifleman in the back.
'Must be the medic.' He thought to himself. He would die after the heavies. "Would you get a look at this, must have some nice tech. There's extra rations for us when we salvage this." Said the pointman, loudly, to the rest of the fireteam.
'Their radios must be busted, or their just complete morons. not surprising either way.' Blackburn thought to himself. The Outcasts came to stand at the ridge oh so helpfully, like target dummies at the range. He lined his sights on a exposed missile's warhead, setting his rifle to full power as he did so. Once again happy that he had added that handy little function. He then slowly exhaled and squeezed the trigger, mentally noting to add another notch to his rifle.

The result was an explosion that instantly killed the person the rocket was hitching a ride with and set off the other two rockets in the cloth pouch it was resting in. A piece of shrapnel, from the armor or missile it was not clear which, took one of the riflemen in the neck severing the jugular. He shifted his sights onto the medic that was trying to save him and shot him in the groin, going for the femoral artery. The screams of pain and agony from both medic combined with the explosive death of their comrade rattled the last two standing. They quickly shook of their surprise and returned fire with a vengeance.
"You motherfucker!" screamed the minigun heavy as he spun up and fired on Blackburn's position. "Keep him pinned, Rick. I'll go left," commanded the rifleman. "On it, James," Rick replied. James flanked left, towards the west, using the covering fire to his advantage as he did so. Blackburn dived behind the shack moving towards the east side of the trench, using the rocks as he did so.
"Come back here you bastard!" Roared the Rick, as he too moved towards the east in an effort to keep Blackburn in his sights. Blackburn who himself had seen the rifleman moving to flank him, lied in wait for him, safe from the heavy behind his rock. He reloaded and set his rifle back to medium power while waited a few seconds keeping an ear on the heavy who stomped towards his position.
'Right about… now.' Blackburn thought to himself as the rifleman came into view from around the ruins of the shack. They both fired instantly at each other, the Outcast's shot deflecting off his right shoulder while Blackburn's took him in the face. The Outcast dropping like a puppet with its strings cut.
"JAMES!" The heavy yelled out in shock. Blackburn moved towards the downed rifleman tossing James' rifle in the way he had tried to flank Blackburn. Quickly taking one of the three frag grenades off James' belt and readying it for the heavy. He pulled the pin and threw it just beyond the corner.
"Shit!" The heavy tried to back up but it was too late and was blasted off of his feet by the force of the explosion, shrapnel peppering him. It was while he was reeling that Blackburn advanced. It was while Rick was attempting to pick himself back up that his attempt was stopped with a boot slamming viciously into his helmet making his ears ring and putting him back down. Blackburn then viciously rammed his rifle's stock into Rick's windpipe, crushing it. Rick died choking curses at Blackburn, finally realising who had been killing his brothers not only in his squad but all of the Outcasts.

Blackburn then checked on the other two Outcasts that had been wounded in the beginning of the firefight. The rifleman had died shortly after the shrapnel had put a second place to breathe in his neck. The medic had passed out due to trauma and shock of the wound, the laser having cauterized the wound. Blackburn relieved him of his medical bag and then pulled out his boot knife and put the medic out of Blackburn's misery. The Rocket Heavy's body was reminiscent of a can that had exploded. Blackburn dryly noted that he had set a new personal best with how far some of the Heavy's body had gone. He went back to UFO, locking his rifle to his back while he did so, to see if it had been damaged in the fight. The only signs of a fight having occurred near it was the fresh blood and bits and pieces of the Rocket Heavy. It was then he heard a small thud. He spun around to see James standing there. Blackburn quickly looked down and noticed that there was a grenade at his feet. It was in that moment that he remembered what Drill Sergeant Dornan's once said.

"Once the pin has been pulled Ambassador Pineapple is not your friend."Following such a wonderful saying, he had then started throwing dummy grenades at the recruits, who were completely unaware of the whole "dummy" part of the exercise. He dived to the side, drawing Li'l Devil as he did so. The grenade detonated throwing Blackburn even further. He quickly drew a bead on James' head and pulled the trigger. The 12.7mm armor piercing round flew at 1400 feet per second and ventilated James' brain. Killing him instantly. Berating himself for not checking on him earlier Blackburn checked his HUD, happily noting that the armor's integrity was uncompromised. Due to the Ambassador Pineapple's explosive words Blackburn did not hear the whine that was coming from the UFO. It was only after the implosion and a wormhole being generated that he noticed something had gone wrong with the UFO. Right as he was being sucked into the wormhole he uttered his last words in The Capital Wasteland.

"Well, shit."