Scientifically speaking, there's no such thing as a unique occurrence. Even if lightning doesn't strike the same place twice, it will continue to strike.
Legends, heroes, champions of the causes they represent, are far from rare. Even Allen Marks, who proved himself to have certain singular talents, wasn't the only of his kind.
Allen Marks was "one in a million", which means that before the bombs fell he was one of seven thousand. And if we're being honest, more than a million have come and gone since he froze, the question wasn't really "Was there anyone else like him" it was "Would he meet them".
Four people, three men and one woman, all adorned in the same brown duster stared out of the plains of the Commonwealth, even from the outskirts they could barely make out the Prydwen at the airport.
"See I told you we'd get there." The woman bragged.
"You got us lost twice, Lauren" The shortest man reminded, in his uniquely formal british accent. With which he managed to sound both cross and meek in equal measures.
"I never said I'd get us there easily." Lauren defended. Lauren looked over the vaguely familiar landscape, she adjusted her gun so she could bat her eyes flirtatiously at the man closest to her.
"You believed me, right John?"
"Sure," John allowed with a shrug, peering through the scope of his rifle, " as far as you remember, were there any raider encampments nearby?"
"Can't say, didn't check."
"Sure, she remembers to shag the Minutemen lieutenant but not to check for danger," The short one insulted, "Sounds like you."
"Liam," Lauren called, mock pouting "Dennis is being mean to me."
Liam, who until now had been staring at the Prydwen, turned to his posse.
"Dennis Murray," He scolded, "What have I said about mocking your fellow Regulators?"
"Only do it when I'm being creative," Dennis finished.
"And what have we decided to call Lauren's needs?" Liam led.
"Low hanging fruit." Dennis admitted.
"Try the hair."
"Bitch my hair's perfect." Lauren interrupted confidently.
"Gloves." Dennis probed.
"Glove are cool," Lauren bragged, "And I am bulletproof."
"Boots." Liam suggested. The smile dropped off of Lauren faster than a mutant after a clean head shot.
"Boots are practical, Okay?"
"There," Liam lectured Dennis, "Creative."
"I want to wear nice heels but no, We need to travel and shit."
"Guys," John interrupted, peering through his sniper's scope. "We've got incoming, could be minutemen, they look military."
"If they look military then it's Gunner's." Lauren corrected, sobering up.
"That sounds bad." Liam guessed.
"Like Talon company except without the snazzy black armor." Lauren confirmed.
"Well then" Liam said, slinging his own rifle around. "Y'all know the drill."
"Make them look," Dennis recited, reaching into his bag for his grenades.
"Make them fight," Lauren continued, cocking her AK, and turning the safety off.
"Make them dead." John finished, lining up his first shot.
"And while I'm doing that you lazy fucks take a nap." Liam joked, taking off. Lauren and Dennis following, leaving John to cover them.
"I fucking wish." John mumbled to himself.
