The Devil's Brigade
The Exploits of the Enclave Remnants Before they Disbanded
Chapter 1:Daisy Whitman
"Mayday!Mayday! I've lost control! SHIT! I'm going down! I repeat, I'm going down! For the Encla-"
Were the last words Daisy, or more formally Captain Whitman, muttered into the vertibird intercom when her frantic voice was interrupted by the shuddering choke of the engines. That damned shuddering. Whitman knew that eventually she would have to bear the sound of her beloved 'bird's death cry, but she never anticipated she'd hear it on this fateful day.
Why this fine day, a morning without the power armor breaking down, and an afternoon without a deathclaw attack, or even a single ghoul? Why did I have to be shot down on such a lovely evening?
Whitman pondered this for a split second before the final blow from a lucky Super Mutant missile tore the left wing completely off the craft. Snapped back into reality, she mustered what little strength she had left into one last, desperate push. The pilot reluctantly pulled the lever at full throttle, and hoped to whatever god was listening that the engines don't blow. The gunship began sputtering some dying clangs and shudders and began swerving away from the hungry horde of muties below. Considering taking risks isn't really her style, she thanked her lucky Sarsaparilla Stars that it worked. Now, Whitman predicted that her doomed vessel would land at least a few miles away from her attackers. Instead of hurtling through the air into the crowd of crazed mutants on the ground, she sent the vertibird careening off to the West.
Sure, that's NCR(New California Republic) territory, but at least over there they don't eat people. Well that's not entirely true, as Whitman has heard whispered reports of human flesh being labeled as iguana meat and sold by vendors in a town called The Hub. Her recollection of reports she rarely ever reads was cut off by the loudest boom anyone has ever heard, and what follows is the death of none other than Daisy Whitman.
….or at least she thought she died when she woke up. The moment the vertibird pilot came to, she noticed something strange; it's...dark? This abnormal darkness led Whitman to believe she's in Hell. She wondered:
Am I here to atone for all those innocent dead wastelanders I gunned down?
Do I have to stare into a never-ending void for eternity now?
How the fuck do I pee?
Before this aspiring philosopher of a pilot was able to reach a nervous breakdown and collapse into tears, Whitman realized she's still strapped into her good old vertibird cockpit. Suspended by a still connected multi-strap seatbelt, she unbuckled herself and landed on the cold, stainless steel floor. Realizing she gets to fight for America another day, the pilot's face lit up like a Glowing One and let out an absurdly long sigh of relief. Knowing she's still in the gunship, Whitman figured that the vertibird must've crash landed into the desert sand and crumpled like tinfoil around the cockpit. An insidious feature added by the Enclave scientists to allow crashed soldiers to remain hidden and safe to give the local scavvers a surprise.
Now the Enclave have a roaring "Shoot first, ask questions never" attitude towards obstacles, be it man, mutant or machine, and by Atom Captain Daisy Whitman was no exception.
The vertibird pilot eagerly checked her ammunition belt and counted 3 remaining fusion cells. Good, she thought, that's ninety shots of pure destructive energy to blast this damned windshield open. Whitman drew her sidearm, a model CR-30 laser pistol, loaded a cell into its battery chamber and fingered the safety off. Milliseconds after pulling the trigger, a bright, dazzling electric blue beam, complete with sparks of electricity arcing out of it, streamed out of the barrel. Upon impact, the beam reduced the WonderGlass brand windshield and its surrounding metal framework into smoldering piles of blue ash and molten slag. A wide crevice in the shape of a circle was made out of the craft, and the captain of this once mighty vessel crawled out.
Considering how she just almost died and she's stuck in barely documented land, Whitman thought it could be worse.
It's the dead of night, and the crisp, dry Mojave desert air was almost soothing, if you could ignore the giant ants crawling around their mounds in the distance. Remembering how cumbersome power armor is without any viable fusion cores(Screw the lore lol), Whitman heaved off her standard issue Enclave X-01 Power Armor and donned her favorite flightsuit. Emblazoned with the old American flag, she felt confidence, even in the face of loss and imminent danger.
Whatever the Wasteland had up its sleeve for her, Whitman was ready. The survivor holstered her trusty electroshock pistol and wandered into the unforgiving nocturnal wastes, leaving behind a smoking pile of scrap metal, a deactivated suit of power armor and an activated distress pulser(Screw the lore again lol) as the only signs she was ever there.