The wind howled relentlessly around the outside of the deserted shack the lone wanderer now rested inside of. He sat alone upon the old bed inside the empty room; carefully repairing his old, but trusty hunting rifle, which lay in pieces next to him. He often asked himself why he kept it; he could very easily buy an assault rifle in excellent condition and many magazines worth of rounds or a more powerful, specialized sniper rifle with the caps he had accumulated over the past year. Yet, not once had the thought of selling it crossed his mind.
He finished tightening the screw in the stock, completing his repair. He looked at it, noticing every scrape, every scavenged part that formed the rifle. He sighed, 'how many lives have you ended now? 100? 150? More?' he sighed again. He still wasn't used to life in the wasteland; he understood it, but wasn't quite all right with it, 'Probably never will' he thought, as he carefully placed the rifle on the floor below him, still within reaching distance should he need it, then he slowly lay on the bed to try and get a little sleep before daybreak.
"Four hostiles at three o'clock, Watch out, one's a sentry!" yelled a Brotherhood Paladin; his partially sythnizied voice nearly lost in the roar of battle; a deadly mix of laser, plasma and normal machine gun fire, laced with the odd grenade explosion.
"Switch positions!" The Lone Wanderer yelled back; the two enclave in front of him were rapidly approaching him, and the hunting rifle he carried was near useless at close range. The brotherhood's laser pistol on the other hand, would be much more effective against those two.
The two rushed around to each other's cover, couching up against the barricade to avoid being hit; Both knowing if they were hit, they would not only be useless, they would die a long and painful death, the type suffered from plasma wounds, the super-heated plasma burning through the skin as blood ebbed from the body.
"You could have told me they were advancing!" The paladin exclaimed, as he leaned out of cover, to miss a plasma shot by millimetres. The Lone Wanderer ignored the comment as he lined up his shot on an Enclave officer, aiming directly for his head. He squeezed the trigger, unleashing the .32 round straight into the officer's head, just above the eye. He closed his eyes as the officer's head exploded into a red mist, painting the metal plate behind him. He cycled the bolt, reading the next shot. He sighted down on duo of Enclave troopers, clad in power armour; one was couched, maybe looking over his fallen commander's body for a sign of life, and the other giving covering fire. He was firing at the paladin. 'They haven't seen me.' The wanderer thought to himself. Within an instant, he'd leant his rifle on the top of the barricade, and was searching through his scavenged scope for the trooper. He lined up the sights on the area covering the throat, where the helmet and body armour joined. Only padded fabric covered there and was penetrable to all forms of projectiles, such as the one loaded into the rifle's chamber. The lone wanderer squeezed the trigger and the bullet hit home. He didn't need to close his eyes when he fell; the helmets kept everything inside. The noise from the shot must have surprised his partner as he stood to find the source of the noise; and within a moment had joined his fellow soldiers on the ground.
"Just that sentry now." He thought, reaching for his pulse grenade. He popped his head over the metal barrier, searching for his mechanical enemy. It took him only a moment to find his target; its dull black plates shining in the afternoon sun. It had been attacking another Brotherhood squad, behind a collapsed wall of a holding pen. It also appeared that the squad had been ripped apart by the sentry bot's arm-mounted Gatling laser. Then it saw him.
"Engaging hostile target"
"Ah, shit." The lone wanderer commented, slightly sighing, while ducking below the barricade again.
He turned to the paladin as he finished off the last trooper, "Do you think you could draw its attention?" He asked. "If so, I can short its circuits with this pulse grenade."
"I'll see what I can do." Came a synthesized reply.
The paladin ran out from behind the barricade, sprinting towards an old military truck.
"Acquiring new target." The sentry sounded, turning to face the sprinting Brotherhood. This gave the lone wanderer but a few seconds to throw the grenade, before the bot's sensors detected him. He stood up from behind the barricade a hurled the grenade right at the sentry. The grenade detonated just behind the sentry bot's head, the EMP blast frying it sensors, circuits, and electronics, rendering it useless, and more importantly, rendering it weapon systems disabled. The lone wanderer slid behind the metal barrier again, resting against it. The paladin walked back over to rejoin him.
"Radio command; tell them that the hostiles have been eliminated and that you're progressing to the primary objective." The synthesized voice ordered, reloading his laser pistol.
"And request some more back-up." Commented the Lone Wanderer, using the block-like military radio he'd been issued before the start of the battle, while also looking at the two motionless bodies behind them; power armour clad, their weapons still clutched in their hands, like a frozen image from an old history book or newspaper article.
"Their sacrifices here will not be in vain." The paladin replied, emphasizing the 'will not' part. "But you still have to destroy that thing." He commented, gesturing to the massive mobile platform, residing across the runway from them. "Then, we can start to restore the wasteland. Help the people in their plights. They've helped pave the way for an actual future."
The Lone Wanderer stayed quiet, reloading his rifle. He took a moment to absorb the paladin's words before he started walking across the runway; towards the last of the enclave's bastions.
The Lone Wanderer slowly awoke from his sleep, laying still for a while, in thought. Reluctantly, he raised himself from the bed into a sitting position. He reached for a Nuka-cola he'd found, drinking it quickly, before placing the empty bottle on a metal box at the end of the bed. He lifted himself up, picking up his rifle and slinging it over his back in one motion, picking up his old helmet, and a small bag containing tradeable items he'd scavenged before standing in front of the door. He sighed quietly before he opened it. As it swung open, The Lone Wanderer was bathed in a dull, warm glow from the apocalyptic morning. He walked out onto the ledge the shack was built upon. It overlooked a small settlement to the east; built into some old bombed-out buildings and in the far south, disrupting the horizon, was the former capitol, with the top of the Washington memorial soaring above everything else for miles around. The sun hadn't reached it yet so was still covered in a dark, quiet cloud. The rest of the land appeared empty; a few burned out wrecks and a couple charred remains of trees entered his vision as he surveyed the land he fought to release into freedom from the enclave's grip.
As he looked on, more things became noticeable in the land; he saw fires dotted around the ground, a dull, but growing roar of weapon fire became audible, he even thought he heard a faint cry.
"'Their sacrifices will not be in vain?', 'Paved a way for an actual future?'" He remarked sarcastically. "No. Nothing changes."
Slinging the sack on his shoulder, he turned and started walking down the path, into the next day.
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