Capital Wasteland
Circa 2278

5…

The sound of safeties being switched off echoed in the air.

4…

"I trust in the steel of my armor, the beams of my rifle; and if my life ends today, I give it to the faithful of my brethren."

3…

He looked to his left, holding the hand of the blond haired woman next to him. She gave him a seductive smile, turning the safety of her rifle off.

2…

He wanted to tell her that he loved her. As she tucked her hair behind her ear, the armored men around them gave mighty growls.

1…

With one last look at her, a smile being shared between them, he stood.

They all stood.

They charged with weapons half empty as they unloaded on the line of slavers in front of them. The long run uphill was difficult, with rockets and grenades exploding around them, sending chunks of dirt and rock into the nooks and crannies of their Power Armor.

'GLORY!' some shouted, Laser Rifles nearly smoking from firing them at the slavers in quick succession.

He idly took note of the men dying left and right from his comrade's lines, but he reveled in the fact that many more of the slavers took serious hit.

One of them, spooked from the last ditch effort of the armored giants, ran away, cowering in fear. He tried to run as fast as his feet could take him, but the bulging stomach he sported prevented him from running too fast.

He, Ethan Faust, mercilessly gunned him down, enjoying the sight of his corpse turning into ash.

'FOR THE BROTHERHOOD!'

'For the Brotherhood indeed,' he thought, baring his teeth as a primal growl came forth from his throat. He trained his rifle on one of them, a panicked expression clearly on the slaver's face. And in an instant, his face disappeared, leaving nothing but a cauterized stump from where his head was previously.

"Hold the line!" He heard the blonde woman scream out, and inwardly, he smiled in pride at the thought that the woman he loved had the ability to bend men's wills as they obeyed the woman without question.

A marvelous roar echoed from the men, just as they neared the defending slavers.

Ethan had been the first to reach them, and in one fluid motion, he shot one slaver in the stomach, blowing a large hole through it before he twister his torso, unsheathing a combat knife from his chest before driving it into the skull of another.

'For the families you tore apart.' He inwardly thought.

He drove his feet into one that had dared to charge him with a Power Fist, and the mechanized leg simply destroyed the man's chest, sending chunks of his heart and lungs into the air.

Around him, his fellow Paladins, barely a small token force now from their charge, slaughtered the slavers in close range. The compound their enemies had holed themselves up in offered little in the way of maneuvering away from the Brotherhood, allowing the men to easily use their Power Armors to outmuscle their enemy.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts, shaking his heads lightly as he ducked a swing from a slaver, before driving his mechanized gauntlet into his groin. He had no doubts that the man wouldn't be able to piss or father any children anytime soon.

The man yelped in pain, grasping his bloodied nether regions before his head exploded in a red haze as Ethan drove it straight down into the ground with his boot.

"Faust!" he heard someone yell.

He turned and saw the blonde haired woman, before shooting her one of his widest smiles.

She did not return it.

"Up the satellite! Snipers on the catwalks!" she yelped, pointing to the catwalks above them where several of the slavers were positioning themselves.

He nodded, not looking at her again as charged forward. His fellow Paladins scattered, trying to find whatever cover there was to shield themselves from the sudden onslaught of combined sniper rounds and missiles.

Ethan ran as quickly as his legs could carry him, smashing through a door that he could only assume lead to where the catwalks were. He paid no attention to the two men that had been crushed between a wall and the door he had smashed in, their blood and brains smeared across the floor.

His Laser Rifle had long been discarded, owing to the fact that he no longer had any ammunition. Despite it, he continued his debilitating run through the building, climbing up metal stairs that creaked under the weight of his armor. None could stand to slow him or stop him, his fists and feet doing his work as he smashed slavers aside. Blood had painted nearly the entirety of his hands and feet,

"DIE BROTHERHOOD SCUM!"

He dodged; the missile missing him as he sprinted forward to his would be killer.

"FUCK YOU!" the slaver said, discarding his Missile Launcher as he aimed a Chinese Rifle at him.

The bullets slammed into the different servos and gears of his legs, and he felt it; the piercing pain of a bullet smashing into his thigh. Blood spilled from his armor, painting the area around the wound in his bright red blood.

He shielded his torso and face from the torso of the rifle's bullets.

Click.

He grinned in triumph, his previous pain forgotten as he put his armored hand down, looking at his attacker with a smile.

The man couldn't have been more than 20 years old; a light brown beard adorned his face. But Ethan could care less.

He was old enough to be held accountable for his decisions in life.

The sprint forward was unbelievable slow, the damaged leg of his armor dragging his weight down as he punched the man with full force in the face. His head exploded in a fine red mist, with Ethan grabbing the man's body by the scruff of his clothes, using it as a human meat shield as he stepped onto the platform.

"Look out!" he heard someone from below yell.

Ethan looked past his human shield, and his eyes widened in surprise as every sniper rifle and missile launcher was trained at him.

'Shit.' He inwardly thought, throwing the dead man's body forward just as his opponents let loose their barrage.

BAM!

Missiles and bullets impacted with the body, blowing it into oblivion. The catwalk's suspension cable snapped, causing it to fall into the ground below.

Ethan barely registered his fall, slamming into the ground with such force and speed that a small crater had formed around him. Smoke, moans and screams echoed out, just as the crumbling of stone echoed in the small compound as the satellites collapsed in on the buildings that had supported them.

"Ethan!" he heard someone yell out, and as his eyes fluttered open, he barely recognized the clean face of Sarah. Sarah Lyons. His love…his passion.

She dragged him out of the crater, the satellites crumbling down into the ground, bathing them in grey dust and smoke.

The area was quite then.

It was peaceful.

He lay there, broken, bleeding. His ribs and leg had snapped in the fall; not even the alloy of his Power Armor could do anything to protect him from the tremendous height he had quickly descended. Some parts of his armor were mangled; twisted and bent in ways that made it unrecognizable.

He felt like he was dying.

And as he did, she sat there, staring at him with a loving smile. Their fellow brethren cheered with their come-from-behind victory, raising their rifles and hands in the air in triumph. There must not have been more than six of them there, sharing the victory with them.

All that remained of the Lyon's pride.

Ethan stared at her face as well, dirt marring the beauty and splendor of her face. He could not find his voice, he could not tell her his feelings. He simply held her hand close to his chest, his breath ragged and failing.

And like the short winter every Christmas, it happened.

He should have been more focused on ensuring that their enemies had died; that none had survived the battle. He should have been a better soldier; a better lover…brother. He should have been.

BANG!

A bullet pierced her. And the woman Ethan Faust,

The Vault Dweller.

Brotherhood of Steel Star Paladin.

Savior of the Wastes.

The woman he loved...had died.

His fellow brethren responded to their leader's killer in earnest, unleashing a fury of ammunition and laser beams into the man's corpse, even shooting it long after his death.

As her body fell forward, Ethan could not help but catch it with tears in his eyes, still unable to stand from the broken and mangled bones of his body.

It was that day…that day that he truly did become the Lone Wanderer.


A/N: I would just like to say that I'll be moving the timelines for certain events in this story. For example: Elder Arthur Maxson didn't really become the leader of the East Coast Brotherhood until 2283. Here, he is an Elder in 2282. Just thought I'd let you guys know! As always, review, share, and favorite if you can!