The sound of Jennifer's own ragged breathing gradually expanded to fill what little space there was inside her power armor, as sweat poured down her forehead. She'd grown to embrace the brief moments of solitude she had while her twin fusion cores powered down. Cocooned inside two tons of steel, for a few seconds she was completely sheltered from the outside world.

Sometimes she imagined herself as the queen of her own little kingdom within the suit. Every molecule of air was her subject, every speck of dust and drop of sweat, her loyal supporters. The thought gave her a little comfort; in her kingdom, her rule was absolute. She didn't have to worry about stubborn commanders and needy settlers. There was nobody trying to gain her attention, no monsters that needed slaying, no raiders that needed killing and best of all, no problems that needed solving. Inside the suit, with only the sound of her breathing to accompany her, she almost felt peaceful.

A gentle rap on the side of her armor served as a message from the real world, kindly requesting her to come back to reality. She sighed and triggered the suit's release, trying to recall the words for her speech. Pointless. They don't care what I say, as long as I say it with confidence. How ironic it was that they looked up to her, a lawyer, even when she had neither the words nor the confidence needed to make a decent speech.

Still, today hadn't been a bad day. After the Minutemen had limped away from her disastrous training exercise in the South, her generals had advised her to undertake a morale-boosting mission. And after hours of debate, they had finally selected a target.

The supermutant had been incredibly large, even for a behemoth. The remnants of swan boats and other refuse from the disgusting pond were still wrapped around his neck, his arms and legs. His skin was charred in numerous places, where her soldiers had fired volleys of musketfire into the creature.

Of course, the final blow had been hers; the proof was undeniable. Where the creature's stomach had been, only a blackened, gaping wound remained, going clear through its body. Even as her men had scattered before the behemoth's furious swipes, she'd stepped straight towards it, Gatling gun blazing. It took nearly two full fusion cores to bring the monster down, and her barrel had melted by the end of the fight. But the victory had boosted the confidence of everyone present; if not in themselves, they were still as confident as ever in the leadership of the Minutemen.

Jennifer clambered out of her armor, carrying herself with an elegance that was unheard of in the Commonwealth. Despite two years in the desolate ruins of her world, she'd stubbornly clung to her pre-war habits. She moved with dignified purpose, with care and poise that came from years of practice, tempered and refined in the courtroom. It was her way of bringing a little order, a little pre-war enlightenment to the Wasteland; to her men, it gave her an air of royalty as she delicately paced if front of the massive corpse.

Her blue, skintight, Vaultsuit left little to the imagination for the men below.

She casually straightened her long, black hair, oblivious-apparently oblivious-to their wandering eyes. Beside her massive power armor, she looked tiny, more like a child than a fully grown woman. And yet, as she surveyed her army, men and women straightened up and stood at attention.

"Just one year ago every Wastelander, from the lowliest scavenger to the mightiest raider, would have told you the same thing if you asked about the Minutemen." She paused for effect, and also to discreetly clear her parched throat. "The Minutemen died at Quincy.' They would say, rolling their eyes at your ignorance." In one fluid motion, she unholstered her revolver and fired a round into the behemoth's carcass.

"Today, the Minutemen came together and defeated this creature. Why? Because we could. Because in one year, we've gone from a failed organization to the premier force in the Commonwealth."

She gestured with her revolver towards the men. Even as the barrel of her weapon was carelessly pointed in their direction, they listened, enthralled. They had absolute trust in their leader, the one beacon of hope they had left in this radioactive hellhole.

"We've brought a little civilization in this world. We've pushed the raiders out of Boston. Even the biggest raider bosses are scurrying North or fleeing South to escape our wrath. And yes, we've got years of pent up fury to share with them. For the first time, those who preyed on the weak for decades will get a taste of powerlessness, as we stomp their compounds into dust." Jennifer pumped her fist near the end of the speech, but her final words were nearly drowned out by the cheers of the weary men and women.

"General." A man said in a warm, comforting tone. Jennifer looked up to see Charles Dyson, one of her commanders, offering her a bottle of water.

"Much appreciated, Dyson." She said with a small smile, draining the whole bottle in one go. Dyson was by far her favorite among the four men that sat on her war council. While he was just as conniving as the rest of the Generals when it came to a debate, he was always friendly to her outside of her office. She could definitely come to appreciate a man who was able to separate his business from his personal life.

"That was a great speech, if I say so myself." Dyson remarked. "And this whole expedition was well organized. I like how you chose to attack at midnight. You blinded the supermutant with laser fire and even managed to kill him just in time for a heroic speech in front of the rising sun."

Jennifer smiled appreciatively. "I'm glad you feel that way. It was quite an improvement over the last expedition, I feel."

"You shouldn't let that get to you. We take losses every day." He said with a shrug. "As long as we do more killing than we do dying, we'll be fine." Dyson added with a wink. It was a favorite line of his, and he never missed an opportunity to slip it into a conversation. Needless to say, he was one of the coldest, most calculating human beings Jennifer had ever met. And she'd been a lawyer for ten years.

"When we get back to the Castle, see if you can drag the rest of the council into HQ. I'd like to go over the rest of the training reports with them." She asked. Dyson nodded. He was no stranger to Jennifer's love of war councils and meetings; he'd chalked it up to her desire for her old life, for the courtrooms she'd argued her cases in. After seeing her in action during the more heated meetings, he could only imagine how ferocious she must have been in her element.