The following morning, Player Name began his perilous trek to Galaxy News Radio. The thought of seeing his father again drove him on through the dusty dunes, pressing towards the ragged skyline of what had once been the capital city of the most powerful nation on Earth.
Dirt and rock soon gave way to concrete and steel as he moved towards the heart of the city. The burnt-out husks of buildings towered menacingly overhead as he walked the crumbling asphalt streets. Two hundred years ago, this place would have been abuzz with sound, the thrum of car engines, the shouting and laughter of pedestrians, the music of the big city. Now everything was deathly silent, save only for the ghostly howl of the wind coursing through the dead land. Once or twice Player Name stopped dead as he heard what sounded like gunfire, but he was determined not to let it stop him.
He checked the GPS on his Pip-Boy and found Galaxy News was near, so he began to quicken his pace. Impatiently he broke into a trot, he was so near and the city was making him nervous, as if it were watching him, setting him up for a fall.
And then they struck. A frenzy of bullets chewed up the ground beneath his feet, throwing up plumes of dust. Terrified now, he broke into a sprint, the gunfire pursuing him relentlessly. Diving for cover behind a concrete wall, he heard the bullets batter the other side, and silently prayed his makeshift defence would hold.
Suddenly the firing stopped, and the city fell silent again, save for the sound of Player Name's frantic heavy gasping.
He heard footsteps. They were coming closer, moving in to finish the job. Multiple footsteps. There was a whole gang of them, coming to kill him, and there was no escape.
One of the gunmen came around the wall, and Player Name recoiled in horror. The man was more of a monster, standing ten feet tall, his skin green and leathery. His muscles bulged as he handled a thirty kilogram minigun with ease. His ghastly face contorted into a triumphant sneer as he raised the weapon and prepared to deliver the killing volley. Player Name shut his eyes and prepared for the end.
The gun began to fire, the noise was deafening. Player Name dared not open his eyes, but he heard the continuous roar of the weapon, and he could hear the others firing too. But he felt no pain, and wondered if he was already dead.
Hesitantly, he opened his eyes. The monstrous man was still standing over him, but he was firing at something else, roaring obscenities in a deep, gravelly voice.
With the gunman's attention diverted, he took the opportunity to sneak a look from behind the wall. What he saw was the gunman's colleagues, each as big and ugly as him, now engaged in a firefight. Player Name could not see their enemies as they were camped within the tangled concrete and steel remains of a building across the road, but it was clear these unknown fighters were winning, as one-by-one the monsters hit the dirt.
The fight was soon over, and the victorious warriors emerged from the ruins, a group of around twenty, each clad head-to-foot in metal armour.
"You behind the wall!" called one. "You can come out now, it's safe."
The voice was sharp and unfriendly, but Player Name emerged and wandered in a daze towards his metallic saviours.
"What the hell are you doing here, civilian?" asked the same man. "You got a death wish or something?"
"Thanks for saving me," said Player Name. "Are you guys robots?"
"No, we're the Brotherhood of Steel. We're bad-ass because we carry big guns and talk in gravelly voices, and we wear power armour because it helps protect us while we're risking our lives saving clueless morons like you. Now I'll ask again, what are you doing here?"
"I'll handle this Sergeant," said a female voice, and another soldier stepped forward, similarly armoured except she wore no helmet, exposing her familiar face.
"Amata!" said Player Name. "You saved my life! But why did you dye your hair?"
"I'm not Amata, you idiot. I'm Sentinel Sarah Lyons and I'm a natural blonde."
"What's a sentinel?"
"It means I'm in charge of this unit. We're the Lyon's Pride unit, and we're the most bad-ass of all the Brotherhood of Steel."
"I'm sure you are," said Player Name, "but may I ask why you don't wear a helmet? Seems kind of dangerous."
"Because I'm so pretty of course! As one of the main characters, it's important that I look good, and with a helmet you just aren't going to achieve that."
"Quite," said Player Name. "But you do look a lot like a friend of mine. Anyway can any of you well-armoured chaps point me in the direction of Galaxy News Radio?"
"Actually, we were just on our way there now," said Lyons. "The station doubles as a Brotherhood fortress. You can tag along, but please try to stay out of trouble."
"Why would you hole up in a radio studio?"
"It's an agreement that provides mutual benefits. Three Dog provides us with a safe haven in this hellhole, and we stop him from getting his head blown off by Super Mutants. You know, those big guys who tried to kill you?"
"Is that what they were? Where on earth did they come from?"
"We don't know. All we know is they're big, ugly homicidal maniacs who'd happily rip your head off at a moment's notice. And they've pretty much overrun all of downtown DC, making it off-limits to civilians."
"Now wait a minute," said Player Name. "Just what gives you people the right to go around preaching what is and isn't off limits?"
"For a start, our impressive array of technologically-advanced weaponry, our intimidating-looking power armour, and our general all-round bad-assed-ness. Why, do you have a problem with that?"
"No no," said Player Name. "Just curious, that's all. Anyway, onward to Galaxy News."