"If the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst forth at once in the sky, that would be like the splendor of the Mighty One...I am become Death, the shatterer of worlds." –J. Robert Oppenheimer
The Lone Wanderer, a man driven by ruthless ambition and an unwavering sense of right and wrong. Four years have passed since the Enclave was decimated by him, and his allies. Four years since fresh, clean water was made available to the citizens of the Capital Wasteland. The Super Mutant menace was almost wiped out, after the Wanderer infiltrated Vault 87 a second time and detonated the reactor. Without the FEV needed to turn humans into the Super Mutants, their number were dwindling. A government based on the values of the United States was formed, and a legitimate President was elected, Abraham Washington, because he knew the most about the government, and former Presidents.
The Lone Wanderer was flying towards California in a heavily modified Vertibird. A patchy radio transmission had been received from the Lost Hills bunker. Apparently they were under attack by something called the New California Republic. With him was the fourteen year old Arthur Maxson, who had recently been promoted to Knight Initiate. As he was heir to the Brotherhood, it seemed only fitting he should return with the Wanderer to the land of his birth. The Lone Wanderer, or Bruce Williams, sat quietly, trying to get some sleep. The noise and Arthur's questions were preventing that quiet well though.
"So, what happens when we arrive?"
"I don't know, we'll have to assess the situation."
"Will I get to use a weapon?"
"Maybe, we'll see."
"Doesn't that mean no?" Bruce just silently stared at the young man, the steely gaze of his bright green eyes causing Arthur to look down.
"Sorry Arthur, I'm just trying to get some sleep. We've been in this tin can for what? Almost three days?" Arthur nodded. The Scribe manning the radio called back to them.
"We're passing over a Pre-War structure called Hoover Dam now, sir. Our ETA is fifteen hours, and thirty six minutes." Bruce nodded, leaning back in his seat. A resounding boom, which sounded loud even over the engines, was heard. The Scribe looked back at them.
"Brace for impact!" A loud shrieking filled the air as the right side of the Vertibird was sheared off. Bruce and Arthur clutched their restraints as the wind tore at them. The Scribe was gone, and the aircraft was making a sickening lurch to the left. The pilot was desperately trying to regain control of the heavily damaged vehicle.
"We're gonna be okay, aren't we Bruce?"
"Sure, kid, but praying won't hurt." The Vertibird continued its crippled flight, finally coming to a rest outside a small, ruined city. By some ungodly miracle they had been able to actually land. The pilot, Avery Johnson, climbed into the back part, and then manually released the back hatch. They all climbed out, noticing a small group of people were standing there. They had uniforms, and guns. Which were pointed at them. A man wearing an OD green beret with a strange bear insignia on stepped forward.
"Who the hell are you people? I just got word on the radio that the guns at the Dam took a potshot at a Vertibird. Why would they want to shoot at you?"
"Sir, let me explain. I am Paladin-Colonel Bruce Williams, of the United States of DC Brotherhood of Steel. We're on a mission to Lost Hills, to aid our brothers."
"Where the hell is the United States of DC?"
"The nation's capital, Washington DC, where else would it be. We're the nation's new government. Who are you people?"
"I'm Lieutenant Monroe, of the New California Republic. If you've come to help your people, I'm afraid you're too late. We're kicking their asses." The three Brotherhood members couldn't help but laugh at that statement.
"You expect men to believe that a primitive nation like yours could beat the Brotherhood? Ha, that's preposterous."
"I don't care what you think it is. For now, you're under arrest. I've already had to deal with one jumped up kid today, I'm not dealing with another." He signaled for some of the troopers to move in. As if on cue, five people came out of a gate that led into the city. One man with a bright orange Mohawk leveled a submachine gun.
"Fuck NCR!" He fired, hitting a trooper in the back. Monroe cursed, and turned to deal with them. Johnson and Arthur leveled their laser rifles at the NCR troops. Bruce coldly observed the small battle, and then he nodded. The two men opened fire, cutting down what few NCR troops that were left. A beam from a laser rifle had taken of Monroe's leg at the knee. The wound had be cauterized by the heat of the beam, so he was in no danger of bleeding out.
"Well, Lieutenant, it seems as if you won't be arresting us after all. I would stay and chat, but I have more pressing matters to attend to, such as fucking the NCR." Monroe laughed.
"Ha, good luck. The NCR is way too powerful for that." He continued laughing, until a cold, predatory smile spread across Bruce's face.
"Know this. I took down the Enclave, with nothing but my own two hands. A little help from my brother didn't hurt. But if you think your jumped up little government is a match for the Enclave, I pity you sir. Alas, now I must kill you. " Bruce drew a N99 10mm pistol from the shoulder holster from under his long, tan trench coat. He looked in the eyes of the man as he pulled the trigger, ending Monroe's life. The pistol went back into the holster, and Bruce turned to look at the people who attacked the NCR. They were all dirty, wearing some type of leather armor. It looked like the kind of stuff a Pre-War motorcycle gang would wear. The leader appeared to be the one with the orange Mohawk. He wore a leather vest, along with what appeared to be leg armor, covering a pair of black pants. A pair of ancient motorcycle boots protected his feet. A band of cloth wrapped around his head, and he had a small mustache and goatee as well.
"Who the hell are you guys?" Bruce knew they looked strange. Arthur wore a cut down version of combat armor to protect his small frame, which had been repainted Brotherhood colors. Johnson wore T-45d power armor, without the helmet, and both of them clutched laser rifles, with laser pistols holstered at their hips. Bruce wore the uniform that Colonel Autumn has once worn. A black uniform under the trench coat that still had "Autumn" stitched into it, along with a homemade shoulder holster housing the 10mm pistol that had also belonged to Autumn. An Enclave officer's cap also sat on his brow. When asked why he wore Enclave stuff, he had replied with 'Say what you want about the Enclave, they had style.'
"I could ask you the same question."
"I asked you first."
"Fine, my name is Paladin-Colonel of the Brotherhood of Steel, based in Washington DC, the nation's capital. This young man's name is Knight Initiate Arthur Maxson, and the other is Knight Avery Johnson, our pilot. Now, who are you?"
"I'm Jessup, leader of these warriors. We are Great Khans. What the fuck is a DC? Are you really with the Brotherhood of Steel?"
"Yes, but first tell me about the Great Khans, are they a gang?"
"Yeah, we used to be one of the most feared gangs in the Wastes, until the fuckin' NCR massacred us a Bitter Springs. Who the fuck guns down kids and old folks, man?" Bruce almost did a double take at that. Well, now he knew how far the NCR would go.
"Well, thanks for helping us with these bastards. You wouldn't happen to know of a place we could rest do you?" Bruce rolled up his left sleeve, uncovering his Pip-Boy 3000. He cycled to the map, which had changed to the Mojave. It said the name of this place was Boulder City.
"About two miles northwest of here is a trading post. I'm gonna warn you though, its run by NCR."
"Well, thanks again. Maybe we'll meet again." Jessup nodded, motioning for his men to follow him. Bruce started walking in the direction Jessup had pointed out to him.
"Why did you let them go, they were raiders."
"Yes, but they helped us. Now we owe 'em one. You gotta learn this stuff kid." Arthur nodded, absorbing the dubious lesson he had just learned. They kept walking, and soon they could see what looked like an outpost on an overpass. A flag flew in the air, and a few wrecks were being used as lodging. They walked towards the top of the hill, seeing a makeshift bar there. Bruce put down a few caps.
"Vodka." The barkeep nodded, placing a bottle full of the clear liquid on the table.
"You know that stuff makes you dehydrated." The voice came from a young woman that had been standing by the overpass.
"Yeah, but it makes me happy." Bruce noticed the woman wore some kind of brown robe, with a power fist on her right hand. He noticed her looking over Johnson's armor, spotting the Brotherhood logo. In low voice, she asked them.
"Are you with the Brotherhood?" Bruce nodded.
"Yeah, my name is Paladin-Colonel Bruce Williams. That's Knight Initiate Maxson, and that's Knight Avery Johnson."
"A Paladin-Colonel? I've never heard that one before. Is he really a Maxson, as in the Maxson?"
"Yes he is. I'm a Paladin-Colonel because I'm a Paladin in the Brotherhood of Steel, and a Colonel in the United States of DC Army. What about you?"
"I'm Scribe Veronica Santangelo, of the Mojave Brotherhood. So, that expedition sent out actually made it to Washington DC?"
"Yeah, they made it about twenty years before I was born. They kept the Super Mutants at bay, and helped the citizens of the then Capital Wasteland. Now, we use our technology to help rebuild America." Veronica's eyes had widened a little.
"Your Chapter actually helps people instead of having a hard on for technology?"
"Yeah, although a splinter group had broken off, called the Outcasts, they still searched for technology. Recently we were able to patch things up with them, and bring them back into the fold. Johnson here was actually a part of them. I was on a mission to Lost Hills, and those bastards NCR on Hoover Dam shot down our Vertibird."
"Yeah, the NCR are defeating us at Lost Hills. We don't have enough troops to hold them off. My own Chapter was driven into hiding by them."
"Well, where are they now? We need assistance." Veronica was about to answer, when four NCR troopers walked up to them. Two of them were wearing what was probably standard gear. The other were wearing what looked like T-45d power armor, but with the NCR flag painted on the chest plate.
"Well, what have we here? That's some nice armor buddy, where did you get it?" They were speaking to Johnson, who just stood there, staring coldly.
"It was issued to me, local. Don't you have some rocks to bang together?"
"That's real funny pal. My father died fight you Brotherhood fucks." Arthur looked at them with a righteous anger in his eyes.
"My father died fighting you jumped up savages!"
"Shut your mouth kid, men are talking." Bruce lean backward, then lashed put with his fist, knocking the offending soldier senseless. Arthur tackled the other one, both going to the ground. The two in armor decided to fight Johnson, who was more than happy to. Assisted as he was by the servos in his armor, there were two of them. That was rectified by Veronica, after she punched on in the back of the head with her power fist. The man's neck broke, killing him, but nobody else seemed to care. A vicious right hook to the throat crushed the windpipe of the other.
"Hey, what do think you're doing?" Three more troopers began to run along the bridge, firing some kind of rifle. Bruce drew his pistol, firing back. Arthur, who had stabbed the soldier in the kidney with a combat knife, stood, drawing his laser rifle from his back. Johnson drew his as well, and soon they had an effective field of fire. A lucky bullet from one of the soldiers caught Johnson in the weak shoulder of his armor. Dropping his rifle, he drew his pistol and kept firing.
"What now?"
"I don't know Arthur. Keep shooting." Bruce reached into the pocket of his coat, pulled out a bright green object, with two little prongs on the top. Priming the powerful plasma grenade, he threw it. It bounced along towards the troopers, who didn't notice. A bright green flash and a loud explosion signaled the grenade had gone off with a hitch.
"Okay, Veronica, can you take us to you Chapter?"
"Well, sure. Do you want to go the long way or the short way?"
"The short way."
"Okay, but we'll have to sneak past some Deathclaws and stuff." Arthur and Johnson looked horrified, but Bruce wasn't worried. Not too worried anyway.
"Okay, let's go."
Okay, this is my first time writing for one of my favorite game franchises. Obviously I don't own Fallout. Comments are appreciated, as is helpful criticism. Don't be a dick, just tell me where you think I need improvement. Thanks for reading.