"Hello Cole, my name is (or from your point of view 'was') Dr. Hale Stockman, and I am both a physicist and a diehard follower of yours. I've read the work of my former colleague Dr. Dunbar and I have heard the faithful gospel that says you shall return to right the wrongs that befall this earth. If my newest calculations are in order, and if this device has remained relatively undamaged over the years, you should be reading this sometime between the years of our lord 2280 and 2310. Cole, without being there I cannot fathom the nuclear horrors that await you or that you have already seen, however I have set upon myself the task of arming you with the best equipment I could afford to give with the governmental repurposing of resources.

First and foremost I am going to address the glove you are currently wearing. It is a device that you may think you are familiar with, but I have taken the liberty of modifying it to better suit your needs. The first change you may want to hear about is the electrical redirection system that I've added. As I'm sure you're aware, the electricity you have within you could not be redirected to the point in which you could grip specific items. However, with the charging system and conduit reroute relay I've installed, you should be able to grip just about anything in that gauntlet without overcharging it and still cast your lightning without issues. As well, some of the electricity is stored over time, meaning that the first few shots you take every hour will be approximately 2.376 times as powerful!

Through a series of nodes the glove actually reads your vital signs and current energy level in a way that a non-scientific type like you can understand. When activated, the screen can display your general level of health, the level of injury you have sustained, your current radiation level, your heart rate, how much you are burdened by weight, and so much more! It is a Personal Information Processor (or PIP for short), and seeing as how I've made 500 minor or major changes to the original design, I'll be referring to it as 'PIP-boy 500'.

It's not just a fancy body scanner though; the device is capable of many less advanced, yet equally useful tasks. It has many functions akin to those of a PDA from your time. The device allows you to leave notes and messages for your own future viewing, map your current location and direction of movement using an internal polarized magnetic oscillator (or a 'compass', in more earthly terms), download computer files via cable, and it even allows you to listen to localized radio stations should you find one.

I cannot tell a lie to the prophet, and despite my best efforts the device still has flaws. First and foremost I should inform you that without a skilled team of engineers, surgeons, technicians, and electrical engineers, you will not be able to remove the gauntlet. To keep its systems calibrated and accurate the processor needs to collect data from you at all times, and the device is actually powered by your body's natural current, thus removing it would cause the device to be unusable. Second, I regret the fact that I was never able to craft a left handed model due to resource and time constraints. Finally, because of the future's unpredictable nature, the map I have provided you is blank. It has the geographic outline of the landmasses; however you'll have to set locations of significance on it manually.

Next, I will talk about your melee amplification weapon (or the 'amp' as I believe you called it). I've added onto it an energy converter that allows you to conduct an electrical field around the weapon that creates a thermal sinkhole. In short, the weapon can now be used to create Ice shards instead of electrical arcs if you flip the switch on the handle.

Cole, I have full faith that God has placed you where you can do the most good, and I wholeheartedly believe that with your skill and the divine's plan we as a species shall prevail through whatever torments the devil and his tricks may force on us. I only hope that the weapon I have armed you with shall make your duty slightly less challenging. You are in my prayers, as well as the prayers of all mankind.

Dr. Hale Stockman, October 7th, 2052"

I really would have liked it if I was told that this thing would be permanently stuck to me BEFORE it was permanently stuck to me. Well, Dr. Stockman for all of his weird religious mumbo jumbo at least seemed to know what he was talking about, so this thing should really come in handy. I heard the voice of Ms. Khan calling for me from street level. Running over to the side of the building, I watched as the towering woman kicked aside some empty shells and shattered bullets.

"I must admit, the way you handled those mercenaries was pretty impressive."

"I'm just doing my job Ms. Khan."

She rolled her eyes at me "Please, don't call me Ms. Khan. The only people who call me that are Raj and the idiots hired to kill me. Until I take the throne from my dad just call me Mileena." She responded

"Uh, alright Mileena... Well, I better get back to Harland; they're expecting me to bring this stuff back as quickly as possible."

Mileena frowned "Oh, I thought you were going to help us out a little before you left..."

"Trust me, the moment I win back Lazarus's trust I'll come back here and try and fix whatever problem you need me to solve. Trust me." I reassured her, hoping down onto the curb beside her.

"Alright, I'll hold you to that, though try to hurry. These goons will never take us down, but some of the other big players might if we keep getting pressured like this."

"Trust me; I'll be fast as lightning."

Mileena gave a condescending groan as I strode off into the city, ready to show Harland both the amp and my new toy. I was only about four blocks from the Khans when I got a little curious. I held up the PIP-boy and scrolled through some of the menus, the controls intuitive albeit clunky. Eventually I found the radio, static blaring from a small speaker above the screen. I twisted the knob a little, the static whirring higher and lower as I did so. I heard a sharp sound, a human voice making an 'a' as I scrolled past the 86's. Going back I slowly honed in on the channel, until I heard the voice come through with moderate clarity over channel 86.9

"... song was of course Harlem Blues. Turning to more serious news, various reports filtering in from the Fire Spitters, wanderers, and even closed off little Harland claim that Cole McGrath, a name I'm sure most of you are familiar with, has returned from wherever he had left to. Now, for the younger viewers, or some of the old dogs who have forgotten, Cole is supposedly a savior, come to rid the world of its troubles, and free us from our own misgivings.

Does that sound familiar? That's right, this Cole is playing by the same Bull shit rules that those jack booted thugs over in the AoP are using. Don't be fooled by the myths, this Cole McGrath, if he even IS real, is going to forcibly bend you over and mold you into his own damn empire, with all of you acting like his personal playthings! So, unless you want more war, violence, and bloodshed through our streets, you'll avoid this demon like the plague, which he may just be carrying!

Now in foreign affairs, a border dispute between the DMA and the AoP has left fifteen dead and an unknown number wounded. After a b-"

I swore out loud furiously, spit flying off my lips as I mashed the off button on the radio. I had barely started helping out and a new voice of survival had popped up, this one a full time radio host. To top it off, someone in Harland called up this pest and told on me. I was about to scream when a voice caught my ear.

I spun around, gloved had wrapping around the hilt of the new amp. A small man, dressed in a grey hooded jacket and faded jeans, wearing cracked racing goggles, and carrying a satchel stamped with a strange red symbol approached, unfazed at my hostility. "What do you want?" I ask venomously, fearing that the guy was here to try and stop "the demon".

The man held his grey gloved hands up in a mock show of surrender, still approaching as he spoke "Cole McGrath, I presume?"

"Who's asking?"

"Well, I am the one asking you, but really, I'm just messenger. The real asker is Director Joseph. He requests your presence in City 11A."

"Might I ask who this mysterious director is?"

"Director Joseph is the head of far eastern affairs for the Dawson Mining Alliance Mr. McGrath."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Like I said, very short chapter. I just didn't want to lump this in with next chapter, as the next one is VERY long, as we are introduced to the first of three major (vying for control of all New Marais, for one reason or another) factions, the Dawson Mining Alliance.