Concord, Commonwealth

He could concentrate only one thing. My son. Where is my son?

In his hands he cradled a double-barreled shotgun, the barrels roaring as buckshot tore into the raiders. He was a demon possessed, driven by a singular purpose. The next raider raised his pipe pistol, only to be blown away by the thunderous fire of the vault dweller's fury. Another raider attempted to get a shot off, only to have her throat ripped apart by a savage dog, his fur matted with the blood of his enemies. She screamed as her life bled away.

The last raiders approached slowly, their makeshift weapons ready. He ejected the spent shotgun shells and inserted two more, waiting as one of the raiders charged forward, his weapon raised above his head. The vault dweller simply riddled the raider with buckshot, killing him instantly. The last raider tried to take advantage of the lack of ammo in the dweller's shotgun, whipping out a pipe pistol.

His mistake was thinking that the dweller wasn't ready. The dweller aimed a pistol straight at the raider's head and pulled the trigger. The raider's brains splattered across the walls of the Museum of Freedom. He lowered his pistol and sighed. I did not want to this. But they left me no choice.

He holstered his pistol before reloading his shotgun. He looked down at his pouch where he held his ammo for his shotgun. Six more shells along with three magazines for his pistol. Six men were dead because of him. I was supposed to leave this behind with the Army. But the world hadn't let him. A world devastated by nuclear warfare.

"Are you the only one out there?" called out someone. It was the man who had been attacked by these vicious assholes, the fellow who looked like something out of a history book.

"Yeah, the assholes are dead," he responded, slinging the shotgun on his back. The dog came by and laid down near him, tired from fighting. A door opened and he saw the same man, the pinned up hat and the overcoat, armed with a weapon he had never seen before.

"Man, I don't know who you are, but your timing is impeccable. My name is Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen," the man said, introducing himself. Preston then gestured for the vault dweller to come into the room, where a stout white man was on a terminal, an Asian couple was huddling on a couch, and an older woman was sitting on a chair.

"Name is Nate. Nice to finally meet someone here who isn't a crazy murdering psychopath," the vault dweller replied, offering his hand. The "Minuteman" shook it with gratitude.

"Well, this is just a respite. The raiders pulled back but I think they're massing for another attack. And now you're stuck here with us. As you can tell,we're in a bit of a mess here," Preston said, rubbing the back of his head.

"What the hell happened?" Nate asked.

"A month ago, there were twenty of us. Yesterday it was eight. Today, it's five. First...first it was the attack on Quincy. Then it was the ghouls in Lexington. And now this mess," Preston said, his frustration and anger coming through.

"Sorry to hear about that," Nate said genuinely. Preston looked surprised to hear that and his demeanor changed to become more...friendly?

"Thanks...it's good to meet someone who cares," Preston said before looking at the man on the terminal. "We figured Concord would be a good place to settle. Those raiders proved us wrong. We had an idea, but we have nobody who's able to do it."

"Tell me anyway."

"Sturges," Preston said, gesturing for the man to stop doing whatever it was on the terminal," Tell him."

"There's a crashed vertibird on the roof. Old, prewar. The passengers left us a gift. A suit of T-45d power armor. Military issue and seems like it hasn't been used in two centuries. Only problem is that none of us know how to operate it. Damn thing needs some special training and we ain't got no instruction manual. That was the idea instead of waiting for our doom," Sturges said with anger.

Well that's a problem I can fix.

"What if I told you that I can use that armor?" Nate asked and Sturges looked at him with hope.

"Now don't go giving me hope. There's only a few people that can use power armor in the Commonwealth. You're telling me you know how?" Sturges asked and Nate nodded.

"Well I'll be," Sturges said, slapping his knee. "There's a minigun on the vertibird as well. Get the suit, rip off the gun, and you can give those raiders an express ticket to hell."

"How do you know how to use power armor?" Preston asked and Nate sighed.

"Learned how to use it in the army."

"The army?" Sturges asked and Nate shook his head in disbelief.

"Long story short. I'm from before the war and I was in the United States Army as an infantryman. Learned how to use power armor before being discharged," Nate explained.

"Holy...you're from before the war? Explains the vault suit. Doesn't matter right now. We, and by we I mean you, need to clear out this town so that we can get the hell out of here," Sturges said and Nate nodded. He knelt down next to his dog and petted him.

"Alright buddy, I need you to stay here," and the dog licked him in response. Nate laughed before looking at Sturges and Preston. "I'll be back."

He started for the stairs, leaving his shotgun and pistol with Preston. He needed a specialized body suit for the power armor, but his vault suit would do. He removed the leather pieces he had taken from some of the raiders and placed them on the table as well.

"I'll support you from the balcony with my laser musket, but the hard job is yours," Preston cautioned him as he headed up to the roof. I got this Preston. Just leave those son of bitches for me.

He climbed the stairs to the roof where he opened the door. Outside he could see the clouds start to gather. Drops of rain started to pour on his hair and he looked forward. There it was. A suit of T-45d power armor. The armor was a bit rusted from two centuries of non-use as he looked over it. The right leg was a bit more damaged while the left arm seemed to be not in good condition. But it was power armor. And it was his.

It was time.

Gristle was angry. Not angry like when he wanted some Jet, but fucking anger. Jared had told him to do one thing. Mop up the last Minutemen and capture Mama Murphy. For a month he had hunted down the last Minutemen with his gang, killing most of them. But then those fuckers had managed to hole up in Concord's Museum of Freedom and he and his gang were force to assault it for days. He had lost half of his raiders before he finally killed off the last Minuteman besides their leader and now it was down to a weepy couple, a mechanic, Preston, and of course...Mama Murphy.

It was going well until some stranger and his dog appeared. They had torn through his raiders like nothing, killing a dozen men and reducing his gang to a mere dozen now. Instead of assaulting the Museum again and risking close-quarters combat, he decided to wait them out.

"Come out, come out you fucking cowards!" he shouted and his raiders repeated his antics, jeering at the settlers to come out and face the music. He adjusted his hold on his hunting rifle, the barrel shortened. The other members of his gang were surrounding the entrance of the Museum and waiting for them to come out.

One of his raiders, Bone, was on the roof with a scoped hunting rifle, one of the few Jared had. He had deemed it important enough for Gristle to have and so Gristle gave it to Bone. Bone was the best shot in the entire raider clan they belonged to and despite being addicted to Jet, he was the most dependable one too.

"You see anything Bone?" he yelled above and got back a "nothing" in response. He was getting impatient. He was about to inject himself with some Med-X when Bone shouted in alarm.

"What the hell is that?" Bone said in disbelief. Gristle was about to ask what Bone was talking about when he heard the whine of a minigun start. Seconds later the bullet riddled body of the best shot in Jared's gang. The hunting rifle was cut in half and all he could do was stare as one of his men was shot in the chest by a laser musket. Preston, he growled to himself. His anger was starting to grow even more than it was before all of it went to shit. Outside something fell down to the street, but he didn't give a damn.

He grabbed his rifle and ran into the main street of Concord, expecting to see the Minuteman.

Instead what he saw was a giant.

In its hands was a minigun, the barrels starting to spool. And out came the hot lead.

Nate sprayed the main street of Concord with his minigun, catching two raiders in the chest and killing them instantly. The power armor was a bit sluggish but the way the .38 rounds of the raiders pipe guns ricocheted off was a great trade off. He aimed the minigun and started up the barrels again, bullets chewing through soft tissue. He repeated the tactic, killing any raider dumb enough to remain in the street.

Just like in Alaska.

Those nightmares, however, were much tougher. This, however? This was child's play.

Gristle pulled himself off the main street, desperate to stop the pain in his leg. A round had torn through his knee as he watched his men, brothers, die at the hands of the tin man. As he groaned, he settled in the wall, hearing the blasted minigun chew through his men like a dog ate a bone. And Bone is dead. His rifle was in his hand as he tried to look outside the window of the building he was in. He couldn't.

What the fuck. The fucker was wearing power armor. Fucking power armor. He hadn't seen anything like it before. Bullets pinged off it like nothing, the ballistic weaponry of his raiders doing absolutely nothing. One of his men got the bright idea of throwing a Molotov Cocktail to try and cook the bastard, but instead he walked through the flames, looking like some kind of demon.

He searched through his pouches, trying to find something to fight against the tide of agony he was in. Finally he settled on a syringe of Med-X. He injected himself with the painkiller and sighed with relief as they worked their magic. He grasped his rifle in his hand and watched as the tin man walked past him, laying down a blanket of lead towards a group of his men. Oh what the hell. It wasn't like he was going to get Mamma Murphy. He aimed the rifle at the tin man's helmet.

And squeezed the trigger.

Nate had finished hosing down the last of the raiders when he lurched forward, his helmet being hit by a powerful force. He turned around, his motion sensors indicating someone was still alive. It was in a wooden building, the wood decaying from years of being in a wasteland. And the last one shall fall. He let the barrels warm and spin...and emptied the last remnants of 5mm ammo into the raider hiding in there.

The raider's body slumped forward, a unique blue Mohawk indicating that he might have just killed their leader. And with that, the tower crumbles. The crumpled bodies of a dozen raiders littered the town. He looked to see Preston waving at him from the balcony.

But then...a tremble. He turned around to see a sewer grate catapult and something...a...claw? grasp the edge of the hole it was in. And out climbed the ugliest son of a bitch he had ever seen.

Preston whooped with glee as the last raider was hosed down by Nate, their mysterious saver from before the war. That was Gristle it seemed, the man who had hounded him for the past month. Seeing that man dead...it was a little satisfying, he had to admit. His laser musket still smoking, he cranked it once more. he had killed two raiders with precise hits and Nate had taken care of the rest.

But then rumbling was heard. A sewer grate catapulted int the air and a claw grasped the edge of the hole. it was hunchbacked, a bipedal reptilian build with long humanoid arms. It stood roughly nine to ten feet tall, with a thick and resilient hide, powerful muscles, and twelve-inch-long, razor-sharp claws that extended from both hands. Gnarly horns grew from its head where a row of sharp and wicked teeth glistened.

A fucking Deathclaw.

"Shit! Sturges get over here. Get your rifle!" he ordered and Sturges appeared behind him, armed with a pipe rifle that chambered a .38 round.

"What's the matter Preston? Heard that the shooting stopped and-" Sturges cut himself off as he saw the Deathclaw emerge from the sewer grate, towering over their hero.

"Fire!" he shouted and Sturges didn't need telling twice. Both of them fired their weapons, the laser musket hitting first, straight in the snout. The laser scorched the end of the Deathclaw, making it howl with anger. But the damn thing roared instead and slammed its foot, staggering Nate. Damn...so powerful a single stomp almost toppled a man wearing power armor.

They continued to fire but their weapons barely made a difference. It was all up to Nate.

Nate clenched his teeth as he was staggered. The damn thing was strong and it was scary as hell. Those two horns stood a foot tall, while its claws looked like it could carve through power armor like a knife through butter. Oh well. Here's hoping 5mm rounds still have the same kick. He started to spool the barrels and fired. The rounds started to impact on the toughened hide, some simply slipping to the side and others imbedding itself into the skin. But the creature continued forward, even as dozens upon dozens of 5mm rounds slashed into it.

It is not slowing down, he realized. The Deathclaw was coming faster and faster, closing the few hundred yards in a few seconds. His ammo count was rapidly going down and still, still!, the overgrown mutated lizard wasn't dead. He grunted in frustration as he slammed another five hundred round drum magazine into the minigun, his last one. He simply aimed and fired.

The bullets continued to whiz towards the Deathclaw, who was not only a few hundred feet away from Nate. He simply held his ground as the bullets hit flesh and bone. Half of the Deathclaw's body was slick with blood, but it just kept going. His ammo count was lower now, only three hundred rounds remaining. He had barely used two hundred on the raiders, killing a dozen like clockwork, but the creature continued to tank it. Despite hundreds of bits of lead and death embedded into its skin, the Deathclaw continued forward.

The problem was that the minigun wasn't accurate. He couldn't simply aim at its head. He had to continue to fire at its chest. Plus that's how he was trained. Soldiers were trained to shoot center mass and not stop shooting until their enemies were dead.

But he decided his training be damned. He had fought commandos in Alaska and against a crazy Chinese general armed with a shocksword, but that was it. He had never fought against an overgrown mutated lizard that tanked 5mm rounds. So he switched his aim.

And he pulled the trigger. He hosed the area where the Deathclaw's legs were. Unlike its chest and head, they were less protected and a few dozen 5mm rounds shredded its knees and joints. The Deathclaw tumbled before falling, sprawling onto the ground just a few feet away from Nate. The barrels smoking, he aimed the beast of a weapon at its face and fired. Twenty-six bullets emptied into the Deathclaw, turning its face and jaw into mush as the HP rounds tore through flesh and bone.

The creature was dead. Concord was safe. Nate sighed with relief as he looked at his ammo counter. Zero bullets left. He threw the worthless hunk of metal on the street. He turned towards the balcony and saw Preston waving his hands and Sturges giving him a thumbs up. A bark soon followed as Dogmeat appeared as well. He had killed over a dozen people and then killed some mutated overgrown lizard with claws that could have torn through his armor like nothing. He was alive! By God and Country, he was alive!

He started to laugh, the laughter carrying over into his helmet's voice amplifiers. Alive! Alive! Alive! He looked at the smoking corpse, the dead raiders that littered the town, and moved towards the museum. Two hundred years ago, he would have been mortified at the thought of slaughtering people in his own country. But the USA was gone. His wife, the love of his life, was gone. His son was kidnapped. He hardened himself.

He headed back into the Museum of Freedom, back on the search for his missing son.

A Note. Power armor is not going to be as available in the game. Fusion cores don't power power armor. Not every raider and their mother is going to have a set of power armor or homemade power armor. It's gonna be the T-45d, the T-51b, th3 T-60a, and the X-1. That's it. The Gunners might have a few power armored troops, but they are not going to have vertibirds. The raiders, especially the raiders, will not have power armor. The Brotherhood of Steel will have vertibirds, power armor, and their giant airship. But I'm not going to spread the power armor like candy like the game does.