Foley15
Fallout: Division – The Dawn of Freedom
Steel Vengeance
Written by: CyberJordan (on FanFiction)
Reimagined by: TSCSupremeCommander
Edited by: T'chazzar's Halo
Special Thanks to: Matt Anonymous (He really doesn't want to be known.)
Author's notes: I am an amateur so please go easy on me, especially since I am a terrible writer and need to greatly improve in the literary skills and creativity department. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy… and maybe take a look at some of those sources below. I am sure the authors would appreciate it.
Warning: Not all of the following was directly included into the story.
Disclaimer: I do not own any game studios, businesses, or the following sites. I am merely a fan of certain creative geniuses who I admire and desire to be as skilled as. Also, I might have missed a few people's names while utilizing their ideas. (Skip the next section if you don't care to read over anyone I might credit for their work.)
CREDITS
Thanks for ideas and pictures to:
First and foremost, Bethesda for the awesome, yet wacky, sci-fi extraordinaire that you unleashed upon the public!
From Fanfiction
CyberJordan for "Steel Vengeance"
Nave Ninja for inspiration from "The Legend of the Wandering Pair from Vault 101" (You lot should seriously check it out.)
From Fallout 3 Nexus mods and Fallout New Vegas Nexus mods
Elijah Houck for Alton, IL – Huge World and Quest Mod
Mancer for Mancers BoS Power Armor, Mancers BOS Recon Armor, Mancers Enclave Power Armor Pack, and Mancers Outcast Power Armor
DCPD for Brotherhood Salvage the Enclave
Shveet for EMM – Expanding Megaton Mod – open resource
Teacosy616 for Megaton Underground
Dracomies and SpaceOden for Fallout 3 Redesigned – Formerly Project Beauty HD
Raider201 for t-45d Reillys Rangers power armor
LethalThreat for The Sigma Squad
Miloz23 for MW2 Urban Camo Pipboy 3000
Retakrew7 for FWE – Colossus Enclave Compatibility Files
1337martyrs for Grenade Pistol
B3ASTM0DD3R321 for Citadel Security Upgrade
From Youtube:
AlChestBreach for the overloading amount of walkthroughs you have done for others' viewing pleasure (except for the usage of foul, crude language, sexual innuendos, and God's name in vain, which you do excessively)
OLKshveet for Expanding Megaton Mod V1.5 GEN B.2 – Outside and Expanding Megaton Mod V1.6 – Inside
FrontierProjectXBL for Expanding Megaton Mod 1.7
Jonsport888 for A new different megaton with streets and outskirts and Amata's follower quest
The Tuninator for Mods of the Week
From other miscellaneous sites:
Fallout wikipedia for lore details
Further Author's Notes: This is a single story for a series that I am basing on my own Alternate version of the Fallout-verse. Now here's the story. You shall enjoy it… I hope.
Edit: Due to many gracious readers and their reviews, I have chosen to fix up a few minor details in this first chapter for your viewing pleasure.
P.S. Sorry to those of you who don't like the central text format, but T'chazzar's Halo and I like it, and I believe that it's one of the things that makes it unique.
Chapter 1: Trouble on 2 homefronts
Exodus 15:3 (King James Version) "The Lord is a man of war: the Lord is his name."
Life… life is ever changing. The adventures and actions of the Lone Wanderer forever altered the Capital Wasteland, and much of the North America east coast, for the rest of history. From the defeat of the Enclave at Adams Air Force Base to his duties in Elder Lyons' eastern division of the Brotherhood of Steel to his own personal quests across the land, every step of the Lone Wanderer resulted in the birth of legendary tales. Even when hundreds would exalt the great warrior, he would humble himself by aiming the praises at Someone far more deserving. Although he experienced an exorbitant amount of horrors, he had yet to meet the worst.
Capital Wasteland – February 2, 2278 A.D.
"Come on, you jackasses. We haven't got all day. Your new owners are waiting!" The gritty, booze-ruined utterance broke the numbing peace of the Wastes' natural silence.
Dust rose into the air as the four slavers in ragged, leather garb nervously stepped with caution across the sunbaked ground, the sun setting below the horizon.
They occasionally shot their sight around, trying to ensure that they were not caught unawares of a potential threat, especially since the destruction of Paradise Falls. For these risk-taking opportunists, the loss of that haven to their kind had been a death sentence, thanks to the efforts of a single man, of some repute in the Capital Wasteland, and his small team of companions.
Trouble was that travel across the wastes hadn't got that much safer in the past year and it was painfully slow progress with a menagerie of eight worn-down slaves of regular and mutant lineage alike. The four ruffians had hoped to be at the more northerly Pitt train tunnel and home free by now. Due to a lot of rests and other problems, they'd only reached the Northwest Seneca station and didn't look like getting much further.
As it turned out, they wouldn't be getting any farther.
The scar-faced Asian-blooded slaver in the rear was in the act of repeatedly kicking a slave who'd gone down in a fit of exhaustion when his head exploded into fragments of brain, skull, bodily fluids, and tufts of hair.
The second of the less-than-friendly band, a dreary Caucasian, next to the first unfortunate chump barely had time to realize what happened when a second shot rang out and he was catapulted backward several feet to land dead on his back with a gaping wound gushing red ichor from his belly.
"Oh crap, it must be…!" A third shot literally cut off that sentence, and the third brigand's head, leaving only the panicked, dark-skinned leader pointing his assault rifle in every direction of the dusty land… until a fourth shot blew his left arm right off, only leaving a bloodied stump.
"AAAHH… MY ARM!" The man cried out, falling onto his back, his legs wriggling as the pain shot up and down his body while he desperately grabbed at the empty space that was now a gory mess.
"Guess we can call the Mk. II Recon Armor a success then."
Agmund Alexander Daichi, the Lone Wanderer, materialized out of thin air only a short distance away as his black armor's stealth field began to dissipate, and replaced his helm onto a belt-strap. The partly messy, eyebrow-length, wavy hair on his head glistened with its natural combination of midnight-black roots and their bright blonde strand tips. Furthermore, his semi-slanted shining eyes with blue irises were chillingly brilliant plus the lightly tanned hide on his rounded yet pronounced Asiatic-Caucasian hybrid features, and him being at six foot tall, only worked in a modest display of strapping features.
Alex walked over to the awestruck slaves and began delicately tinkering through the wires of the cheap explosive collars, deactivating each of them with a satisfying fizzle. The suit he currently wore was a cross between the Chinese Stealth Armor and armor pieces and systems from a suit of Advanced Power Armor Mk. II, and its upgraded stealth field only made it better. Coupled with the helmet and skull paintjob, the wearer ended up looking like the grim reaper and it made Alex into a fearful sight to his enemies.
"Self-Righteous Punk!"
"Oh, you're still alive?" Alex spat at the pain-stricken slaver. "I thought you fools would have learned after what happened to Paradise Falls."
The slaver's eyes shifted to the size what could be identified as dinner plates. "Oh crap..."
"You said it." Alex looked over the slaves, his eyes narrowing even further as he saw that three of them were kids. "I'm sorry that it has to end in this regard, but you definitely won't hear me out."
The slaver didn't have time to scream before Alex's fifth shot shattered his head into bloody pieces. With a frown aimed at the waste of life, Alex holstered his .44 Revolver, Blackhawk as he turned to escort the freed slaves safely back to New Big Town, and a rather ironic circumstance considering the settlement was formerly Paradise falls itself.
Citadel – February 3, 2278
"GNR… Three Dog… all you need to know."
Alex had switched on Galaxy News Radio, the favorite radio channel for any self-respecting local, to help pass the time while repairing his armor and several other suits down in the somewhat rusted Forge of the Brotherhood of Steel's Citadel.
The sore truth was that he was working his life away so he didn't have to think that much anymore. It might have been the best year the Capital Wasteland had ever known, but for him the last six months had been barely passable.
He'd not heard anything from his most-cherished friend Amata, or Vault 101, since he'd put her in the Overseer's seat, and his beloved dog, Scraps, had passed away in his sleep two months ago.
Although honorary members of the Brotherhood, Fawkes, the last remaining sane 'super mutant' from the east coast, was living in Underworld and had his own life to lead, and, even though he pledged a life debt to Alex after the young man had ripped asunder the single paper that bound the ghoul's life to that of servitude, Charon had taken up Alex's offer to go help other ghouls, or 'Necro-humans' as some more scientifically-minded individuals preferred.
Also on the thought of the Brotherhood, Star Paladin Cross had no time to spare to travel with Alex. Even if the warrior had promised an oath of kinship as an old friend of the young man's late father, Cross was too busy attending to his duties of being a trusted aide to Elder Lyons, and the Elder's most trusted bodyguard.
Alex also hadn't seen the former raider known as Jericho since just a month after he left the Vault for the first time, following his only trip to Evergreen Mills. It was within that month's time when Alex first experienced the true bitter harshness of the wastes that he had hired on Jericho as his guide. Although Jericho and Agmund hadn't gotten along much in that time, and they nearly turned on each other on occasion, Alex could now almost have considered the man a friend.
The last he heard, the former haven of debauchery and madness for those wasteland delinquents had undergone some kind of change. Rumors had been heard that, somehow, Jericho had been helping the 'Top Dog' to transform the settlement into a productive, if still a little violent, place.
There was also Harkness. Ever since Alex had restored the android's full memory to him, the synthetic humanoid had become a part-time travelling companion to the Wanderer. Of course, that had changed recently due to the influx of new settlers following the increase of pure water, thanks to Project Purity, and as such Harkness had to remain at his post as Rivet City's Head of Security.
The only other automaton that had been part of his team, at least for a week or so, was the Mister Gutsy he had bought, Sergeant RL-3, which Alex had given over to Reilly's Rangers to help strengthen them since they became a new special unit of the Brotherhood of Steel.
On that note, Alex could remember a young lady he had 'saved' from Paradise Falls. Her name was Clover, and she had apparently taken advantage of the Wanderer's invasion of the slaver town by killing the boss of the settlement, one Eulogy Jones. She had been acting the part of the favorite slave girl for that scumbag for the better part of a month before, and couldn't take it anymore.
The last Al heard, Clover had settled down in Megaton and gotten married to Billy Creel - a nice story in the bleak Capital Wasteland.
Aside from his casual friends in Megaton and his comrades in the Brotherhood, the only other person Alex spent plenty of time around was Bryan Wilks, a ten-year old boy who Al, alongside his friends, had saved more than half a year beforehand from a group of unusual raiders. Now Bryan saw Alex as the big brother he never had, and stayed in Al's house back in Megaton, hanging out with Billy Creel's adopted daughter, Maggie.
All in all, Alex truly was the Lone Wanderer now, and it did irk him.
Although he was constantly coming up with new designs and weapons for the Brotherhood, doing wonders cleaning out the Super Mutants from the nearby city ruins, and was the centerpiece of a major revival of the Christian movement both in the Brotherhood and throughout the wastes, it felt like his life was lacking… something.
"...now I know that I've been a little light on news lately, but we all know who's responsible for that. Don't we, children? If Mr. 101 had never shown himself or simply didn't care, we'd be in one big mess. As it is we've got fresh water, a lot less 'jolly' green giants, and, best of all, no more Enclave fascists."
Alex cracked a little smile at that.
The one bright spark was that no one had seen or heard anything of the Enclave since the Brotherhood gave them a requiem at Adams Air Force Base. Either they had finally got the hint that their self-styled "America" wasn't wanted or they'd simply died out.
Alex, not surprisingly, was hoping for the latter. He'd still held on to some resentment for the Enclave after what they'd done, and he wasn't sure when he would let it be.
"You're still working down here?" The booming voice of a familiar individual filled the chamber.
"Yes I am, Sig," Alex replied neutrally without looking around, his own words sounding more along the lines of a teenager compared to his friend's. "And I'm going to be for a while yet."
Siegfried Lyons, Sentinel Sarah Lyons' brother and commanding Guardian over the eastern division of the Brotherhood of Steel's armed forces under their father Elder Lyons, sighed.
The six foot five giant of a man had a rugged, slightly-tanned face complimented with a strawberry-blonde mustache running along the upper portion of frowning lips, complete with a years' old reddish line given by a knife running down from the tip of his chin to the bottom of his thick neck. At the time, he had traded out his cramped power armor for a casual white tank top, blue jeans, and combat boots attire worn on his bulky, hairy frame.
"This isn't healthy, Alex. You can't spend the rest of your life fixing armor and being a one man police force for the wasteland."
A light scowl slipped onto Al's face as he looked to his friend. "And what am I supposed to do instead then? You tell me."
"Try and live a little," Sarah interjected as she came in behind her brother.
As Sentinel, she mainly served as head logistics for her father's branch of the Brotherhood of Steel. Her golden-blonde locks waving in the wind, plus her loosely form-fitting black jumpsuit, being revealed in the light. By appearance, she was only five foot five and smaller than most, but she was built with just the right shape with fine musculature alongside her tanned Caucasian complexion. Every syllable that came from her mouth sounded with gentleness, yet with the crisp excellence of her military upbringing.
"At least take it a little easier," she expressed with a slight wave of the hand in the air. "Rothchild might appreciate you slaving away down here and we all appreciate you killing mutants in the day. No one would even dare deny that you've given us quite a bit to think about with the Good Book. It's just that…"
"I know! Okay! Don't you think I know that? But I don't have much of anything else to do. And I don't think I'm ready to 'live' a little, as you put it, yet," Alex finished, with a somewhat stronger frown in Sarah's direction.
Siegfried chose to add on, "Well if not now… when?"
Sig's question was gentle, but it hit hard. Worse yet, neither of the twins had much of an answer either. They both knew full well that the hometown hero didn't want to settle down any more than Sarah did. She was married to combat logistics duties, and Al was a warrior and wouldn't give up that role. Sarah also knew that he wasn't over Amata yet and was not interested in looking for relationships elsewhere. Given these cold hard facts, there were only one or two options left.
"I… don't know."
"Well, if you're not ready to live yet," Sarah took back over, "are you ready for a Nuka-Cola or two? You, Sig here, me, some of the Pride, and Paladin Tristan. How about it?"
Alex sighed indifferently. "I was going home after finishing this off…"
"Fine, then we'll have it in Megaton," Sig had caught on and his tone indicated that Agmund wasn't getting out of this. "Finish up, clean up, and then meet us topside. Consider that an order, Knight-Commander!"
Alex seethed inside as the pair of siblings left grinning. So much for a quiet night.
Settlement of Baltimore Haven – Forty miles NE of the Capital Wasteland
Baltimore Haven was well-named, being the largest and safest settlement for miles around.
It was unusual in a few ways. First it was huge: over three times the size of Megaton. It was built inside what was left of the west side of Baltimore, which hadn't been hit as bad as Washington, and had several intact pre-war buildings and apartment blocks inside its walls. The best part was the intact vault, Vault 99, located in the middle. In fact, most of the settlers were descended from the original vault dwellers.
Vault 99 had been a happy standard vault in its day and had operated just as the Vault-Tec brochure said it would. But upon opening the doors to a hostile environment, the vault dwellers decided not to explore too far. They'd simply repaired and developed the apartment blocks that remained and walled off the area with walls of rubble and scrap metal.
Two hundred years later and the settlement was still intact and thriving. The vault's water systems still functioned so that was never a problem, and, between home grown allotments and scavenging, neither was food. The only major threats in the area were the infamous 'raiders' and native fauna.
But those had been less of a problem since the arrival of the settlement's newest residents: the two hundred Enclave troops who had arrived from the Capital Wasteland.
These troopers, led by Major Gary Houser, weren't exactly Enclave regulars.
They had been considered misfits and troublemakers by the leadership, but this was not due to any lack of skill or loyalty to the cause. The difference was that they actually cared about the wasteland and its people, which was how they'd all been reassigned from the main division in the Capital Wasteland and sent northeast to Baltimore on scouting and fact-finding duties. On finding Baltimore Haven, they'd been quick to establish relations and then spent most of the last nine months securing a new outpost for themselves there. All had gone well for the Enclave members and residents alike… until now.
Since three months ago, people had been disappearing from the settlement, just completely vanishing with no signs of a struggle or any warning. It had been subtle, only one or two people at a time, but it was getting worse and it didn't seem to matter how many guards were posted (whoever it was just went past them unseen) or what sensors and cameras were online (they either were hacked or their memory was erased). The total so far was sixty people abducted, including five Enclave.
"Still no response?" Belonging to the silver-haired fifty-one year old Major, the concerned question was accented with strong, clear American English.
It was only part of his controlled grief as his decently-weathered, barely-tanned skin pieced together with his strong Germanic features crinkled and he wiped the bottom of his face while scenarios ran through his mind. He had been pacing back and forth with his five foot nine tall body on his good footing. Houser was truly feeling his age as he headed for the vault entrance for a meeting with the settlement council and his officers.
"Sorry, sir. Still nothing." Answering in dispirited speech with her disciplined yet fiery feminine tone, Lieutenant Kayla Thomson wished she had better news. "I just hope Dan has a good report when he gets back."
With her curly, auburn hair in a regulation short-style ponytail and chestnut eyes in the midst of her creamy face, Thomson stood at five foot seven with a lean figure and sharp Anglo-Saxon characteristics in her Enclave-standard black, grey, and brown officer's jumpsuit and Enclave insignia-emblazoned black cap. A drop of sweat made a line down the side of her visage as she waited intently.
"I hope so too. He's been gone too long as it is. Something must have gone wrong back there."
Desperate for news and reinforcement from the Capital Wasteland, Houser had sent his other main subordinate, Captain Daniel Kerrigan, back in one of the three Vertibirds he had at his disposal. He knew he was violating orders by doing so, but he desperately needed more help, and after weeks of no replies to his radio calls, he decided he had no other option.
The fact that the Captain had been gone a day and a half only increased Houser's worry. By VTOL, it only took half an hour to get to Washington from Baltimore. The Major was still pondering what to do next when one of his soldiers intercepted him.
"Sir, we've got a Vertibird coming in from the south," the synthesized voice of the soldier announced through his Advanced Power Armor Mk. II's mouth piece.
The Major took off in a sprint, with Kayla not far behind, having to hurry past people and otherwise for several minutes, until they both arrived at the southwest landing pad on the edge of town, just inside the walls, where he could see the air vehicle coming in closer for a touchdown.
Houser's heart lifted as he examined the machine from top to bottom.
At first look, one would think of a fish-like piece with its slightly bulbous central portion extending to its end with an almost fin-pieced tail at the end. But, if one were to pay attention to the arm-like parts that shot out from the sides, one apiece, ending in rotating parts with spinning helicopter blades, which propelled the vehicle forwards, backwards, upwards, or downwards, plus the extensive amounts of pumps, wires, bolts, other miscellaneous parts, and dark grey paintjob on the surface, it would be more than simple to recognize the true potential of the machine.
The Major had gained a sense of hope as he watched the frontal wheel and rear dual wheel landing gear deploy from the Vertibird, and it landed as he recognized it as the one he'd sent out. What little glee he had was quickly dashed again when he saw his Captain getting out of the Vertibird.
Kerrigan's usually cheery, olive-pigmented face and smoothly set semi-Mediterranean descent was as pale as a mortician's.
"Dan, what happened? You're well overdue," Kayla beat Houser to meeting up with Dan, with a half-hearted grin. "Is help on the way?"
"No, no help at all," The raven-haired thirty-five year old Captain said, his face fitted with a deep frown and his voice filled with exhausted disappointment.
"What?!" Kayla declared. "You're kidding me! You mean to say that son of a mutt Colonel Autumn's sending nothing?"
"There's nothing to send, Kayla. We're all that's left." Dan nodded his head at the box he was carrying under the left arm of his own officer's uniform.
The Major and Lieutenant recognized it instantly as the "black box" data core from Raven Rock, the kind that was jettisoned for recovery in the event of a base self-destruct.
Houser's face was ashen. "Captain, you mean that we're…"
"…all that's left of the Enclave on the whole coast? Yes, sir. We are. We're also in the deep end, wouldn't you say?"
Megaton
Moriarty was starting to think Christmas had come early.
In his tavern-inn building made up of scrap metals and other pieced together materials that were scrounged up years ago, the group from the Brotherhood, consisting of Knight-Captain Colvin (a smile plastered to his lips as he guzzled down his drink, and light shined brightly off of his bright blonde hair onto the specialized marksmen rifle on his lap), Knight-Captain Dusk (his soft Asiatic appearance downplaying his pure killing prowess), Paladin Glade (kindness marking his strong Slavic appearance topped with dirty-blonde hair), Paladin Kodiak (an appropriately named bear-sized African-American), Paladin Vargas (a nearly somber, five foot six white man), Paladin Tristan (a middle-aged and almost completely bald Caucasian), Guardian Sig, and Sentinel Sarah, had gone through two rounds of Nuka-Cola already and they didn't look like slowing down.
A few of the Pride threw some jokes back and forth about how Paladin Gallows was out, again, without telling anyone else about his 'Special Operations'.
The whole time, Colin's newly established co-partners, former employees Gob, or Gobtholomew as some knew him, and Nova, or more appropriately Lucille, were busying themselves either with resupplying the drinks or with other customers.
The only problem in the whole scenario, at least as far as Siegfried was concerned: Alex was a no show at the bar. He'd come out of the Citadel without a complaint, went to his house to change clothes again once they'd marched into the town, and thirty minutes later still nothing.
If he thinks he's getting out of this, he's got another thing coming! Sig thought darkly as Sarah stared at the door with concern.
The large, helmetless man in his own Hellfire Armor Mk. II was halfway to the door intent on dragging Alex there when he stepped in on his own. But he certainly wasn't in party mode as he was decked out in his suit of improved power armor and sporting one of his newest works, what he liked to call his masterpiece.
And yet, it was almost an accident that led to its creation.
Through a series of tests and failures for a superior urban combat choice for firearms, he had been experimenting, and finally discovered a system that he was confident would one day become a staple for the Brotherhood.
Overall, it was a shotgun. But not just a gun that shot pellet rounds or anything that delivered a single powerful blow. Instead, it was automatic, with a recoil-reducing system, and a build that was easily maintained. All finished with a jet-black steel finish.
It was a pure killing machine, and he named it the DAS-01, or Daichi Auto Shotgun-01.*
From head-to-toe, Alex was the image of a dark warrior who had ascended straight from the pits of Hell.
He'd taken his Hellfire Armor Mk. II with the emblazoned Brotherhood logo (a sword with outstretched wings wrapped around a circle, underneath the sword's blade, containing one large gear and a pair of smaller ones) on the left shoulder along with the Reilly's Rangers' insignia (a four-leaf clover x-ed over by two swords) on the right and, for psychological show, he'd forged smooth bladelike extensions over his shoulder pads and down the front to his chest and from the elbows as well. To those who witnessed it, there seemed to be an air of power and a fear-inducing aura all about the armor.
"Alex, what are you…?"
"Sorry, Sig. Party's going to have to wait." Al's voice resounded deeper thanks to his slight altercations to the suit's systems, thus furthering the fearsome picture that was the Lone Wanderer. "I've got a problem I need to take care of."
"What sort of problem?" Sarah lightly asked as she almost skipped forward with the rest of the group coming over to join them at their own pace.
In response, Alex punched several buttons on his Pip-boy 3000.
THIS IS AN EMERGENCY TRANSMISSION FROM VAULT 101:
"Alex, I hope you can hear this. I can understand if you never wanted to see me again, but I really need your help. The Vault needs your help. We weren't ready for facing the outside world like you did and we need you again. The code to the vault door is now your name. The Vault needs a hero and, according to what we've heard on GNR, you are one. Please help us and come home."
Alexander switched off the message as he faced downward while bobbing his to the right and the left with a sarcastic smile lining his appearance underneath his helmet. "Yeah right… and I'm the next Enclave President."
"That was Amata, wasn't it?" Sarah asked, starting to catch on.
"Yeah, but you heard her voice there. Someone was forcing her to say that crud, and given the way I left, do you really think she'd invite me back just like that?" Alex looked around for opinions and all he got were nods of agreement. "So I'm going back, but it won't go the way they think it will, and if they've hurt Amata or anyone down there…" Alex raised his hand and closed it into a fist for show as his expression was no less serious than the situation.
"Good thinking," Paladin Tristan smiled at the man he'd mentored and considered the best the Brotherhood had. "So what are we waiting for? Let's go blow something up!"
"Wait a minute… we? What do you mean, we?" Alex was momentarily taken aback as he removed his helmet to show his face's sudden seriousness.
"You're one of us, kid, in case you hadn't noticed," Vargas chimed in. "I don't know what things were like in that vault, but we look after our own."
The sentiment was shared all around with cheers and statements of similar caliber.
Despite Alex's protests, every single one of the fire team was adamant about going in with him.
As he thought more about it, the more he liked it. Whoever was pulling the strings down in the vault was expecting just him, but what they'd get was him plus the Brotherhood's elite, which was more than enough to sterilize the Vault ten times over. Yes, he was starting to like this idea a lot.
Five minutes after collecting all their helmets and guns, they were on the dusty, slightly irradiated road through the Springfield ruins.
Of course, to keep command updated, Sarah chose to stay behind in Megaton and establish a line of communication, just in case.
Amongst their semi-loose grouping of the team, they all had their own specially prepared armaments on-hand, including Alex's DAS-01 plus his Blackhawk revolver, and strapped-on packs across his harnesses connected to his armor contained all of the ammunition he needed.
Siegfried hefted on with a common pre-war Type-93 Chinese Assault Rifle that he had acquisitioned from the Citadel's armory and his own personal plasma pistol, one he had taken off a deceased Enclave officer he had dealt with himself, strapped to a holster on his chest-piece.
Colvin had rested his favored sniper rifle, one which he called the 'Victory Rifle' (a surname he gave it thanks to him using it to cause a chain reaction of explosions off during a clash with the Enclave, allowing the Brotherhood to claim victory) and had been a gift from Alex that he had found during his travels, into his back-holster to allow him to bear his kind-of boxy H&K MP9 10mm SMG* in front of himself.
Dusk sported a regular bolt-action rifle that anyone with know-how on the subject of traditional guns would recognize as an old M14 Rifle, but the local wastelanders just called it, and an assortment of similar firearms, a 'hunting rifle'. In the back-holster of the man's armor, instead of the ordinary sniper rifle, he had a 'new' weapon that had been given directly to him from Elder Lyons himself.
All the way from the southeast region of the pre-war nation of the U.S., the beauty was a gauss rifle. To put more accurately, this rifle was a barely known former experimental prototype from during the Resource Wars that shouldn't have survived the Great War. At least, that's what anyone who hadn't come from down in the Dixie-land would have thought.
Rather than the long-barreled, short-butted, almost handicapped, yet power-packing gun that Alex had acquired during his first visit with a certain group of ex-Outcasts in the D.C. ruins, Dusk possessed a rifle half the size of the former device with a little more than half the power, less than half the kick, more-easily maintained parts, and far greater accuracy. As per its characteristics, it had an actual magazine, containing five rounds instead of just one, loaded in the back end of the gun, right in front of the butt, and a tri-pod piece built right into the shortened barrel with its more subtle electromagnetic rings.
Its name was the MX-17 Gauss Rifle,* a designation rightly bestowed due to its appearance that looked closer to a traditional assault rifle than to what essentially amounted to a handheld artillery device.
Glade, thanks to his role as the group's 'heavy', had strapped on an energy pack onto his back to power his dual-hand wielded Laser Gatling, along with a custom-fitted version of the combat shotgun, thanks to Alex, that shifted the drum-barrel magazine back to under the ejection port and had a pump-action feature added on.* This new redesign of the old gun proved to be far more efficient, and less likely to fall apart within a month's use.
Kodiak was armed with a classic pre-war R91 Assault Rifle * for the purpose of dealing with his enemies at a distance. But, on his back, he kept his personal favorite – a Super Sledge – for those times he just needed to bash the brains out of someone's skull.
Vargas kept his AER9 Laser Rifle at the ready, backed up by his trusty .44 Magnum in his side holster. To top it off, he had his handy, dandy med-kit strapped onto his leg-plate for attending to the wounded, as per his role as the Pride's field medic.
Tristan had his own hands on a H&K P90c Submachine Gun, all the way from the Core Regions, that his father had passed down to him and a miniaturized grenade launching system in the form of a pistol, courtesy of Alex and his handiwork.
"What kind of resistance should we expect?" Tristan asked aloud, as he walked on in his suit of regular Advanced Power Armor Mk. II.
Alex scoffed. "Pathetic. Cheap vault armor, cheap 10mm pistols, old police batons, and a few aging shotguns. One or two of us could clean the place out without breaking a sweat. All that worries me is what's happened to Amata and the others in her group."
"Well, since this is your turf and your friends are involved, you can lead this op," Siegfried suggested.
Alex stared at his best friend as though he'd gone completely bonkers. "Me in charge of the Pride?"
"Speaking for myself, I'd follow you into the gates of Hell."
Alex waited for objections from the rest of the group. He was stunned when there wasn't any as all of the others just stared at him in expectation waiting for his orders.
"Very well. Helmets on. Let's do this!"
Vault 101
It was close to 21:00 when they reached the damaged, warped wooden plank outer Vault door illuminated in the moonlight.
"I'll go first, let them think it's just me, and then if there is any trouble, we'll give them a surprise. Dusk, stay here in case of anyone trying to cause us some difficulty from this angle," Alex ordered coolly.
Once they creaked open the plank door, almost causing it to fall apart, Alex and the rest of the team quietly stepped into the cave just outside of the vault, weapons ready but lowered to prevent unwanted hostilities.
The first surprise, however, was that the main door was already wide open, and the second was the heated argument that they could hear just inside as they edged closer to the opening.
From what Alex could make out, it was that light-skinned, curly-brown haired Butch and one of the old Vault guards who he'd left alive during his escape, Officer Park, who still had his beyond-pale complexion and worm-like facial hair above his lips coupled with his brown comb over.
"...you always were the slow one, Butch. It wasn't Amata who sent out the signal."
"Then who did?" Butch's loud, obnoxiously provoking voice was unmistakable.
"The rightful Overseer, Allen Mack."
With that revelation, Alex's face shifted to pure anger, crinkling with the appearance akin to a predator snarling its teeth.
Although Alex knew he wasn't all that popular in the vault, Mack was one of the few who'd outright despised him and his father. They didn't like him, but they couldn't say that they shared the same disgust he held for them. 'An overrated sycophant' had been James's description of the man.
Alex had no doubt the only reason Steve Mack had been allowed to join the vault guards was his father's boot kissing to the Overseer. This meant, as far as Alex was concerned, that Allen Mack was just as responsible for his old friend Jonas's death as Alphonse Almodovar had been.
That numbskull thinks he can just overthrow Amata and lure me back into a trap? Alex lifted the DAS-01, looking over the gun's exterior before shifting to ready it for its intended purpose.
Mack was about to get a serious Capital Wasteland lesson that most had learned well over a year ago: do not mess with the Lone Wanderer and expect to get away with it with no consequences. The Enclave had learned that the very hard way. It would be interesting to see how Vault 101 would do….
Author's notes:
* For the closest picture of the DAS-01, look up AA-12. You'll understand. As for the other items, I will soon add images for those on a site with the links added to my Fanfic account.
So, this is the first chapter in my first story for my very own Fallout Alternate Universe, Fallout: Division. Please, remember to review, leave some feedback on what you thought, what you think would be best, and/or what you would like to know lore-wise. I plan to post links to images for some of the more unknown items, such as the ex-Enclave Advanced Power Armor Mk. II, Hellfire Mk. II variant, for your viewing pleasure. May you have a blessed day!
