Hello enveryone, hope you are doing well and that you enjoy this "second part" of the story as much as the first one.

Here we focus on Projet Purity, plus, I added something that I thought was missing from the game and could fit very well.


Damian was approaching the outskirts of D.C. He had stopped under an old bus shelter to get some rest. He kept going over what he had witness at the relay station. The Enclave had found a way to destroy Liberty Prime. Now, the Brotherhood's chances of victory were dwindling, and with the discovery of this devastating new weapon, their chances were almost nil. Chances were good that they would try to use it again and target the Citadel.

Damian arrived at the Citadel and was pleased to see that the building was still standing and had not been hit by this mysterious weapon. He found Rothchild in the laboratory. Rothchild's nose was stuck against a computer screen and he was mumbling to himself.

"Scribe Rothchild? I've..."

"Can you believe it?" cried the scribe without taking his face off the screen. "All these years of work! All this time for what? A single botched operation! A real fiasco!"

"You already know about Prime?"

"Of course, I know about Prime. We were tracking him from this terminal when we got an error message and lost the connection!"

"You know, it could be worse," Damian said.

"How could it be worse? Our best way to destroy the Enclave once and for all is in pieces!"

"They could have attacked the Citadel. Without you and Lyons, we might as well give up right now."

Rothchild looked at Damian. He was about to answer, but then he realized the young man was right. He sighed and massaged his temples before he turned off the terminal.

"Yes, you're right. I think we should consider ourselves fortunate that the Enclave didn't use... That thing earlier. Prime can always be rebuilt, in fact I'll have Tristan bring what he can and leave a few men to watch over its remains."

He got up and resumed his usual serious air before turning to Damian.

"So, were you able to get your hands on any interesting data?"

"Yes," Damian said.

He opened the little satchel on his belt where the holotape was and gave it to Rothchild.

"Tristan and his men found some data on a computer. I don't know what it could match. Still, it must have something to do with what happened to us at the relay station."

Rothchild inserted the holotape into one of the lab terminals. The data Damian had seen at the station appeared on the screen. The scribe scratched his chin and mumbled.

"Hmm, it might take us a while to decipher all this," he said. "And as long as we don't know what this data refers to, and without Prime, it will be difficult for us to make a plan of action."

"What are you thinking about? What do we do?" Damian asked.

"I'd advise you to go look in the mirror, don't be offended, but you are a mess."

Damian saw his reflection on the screen of one of the computers in the lab. His hair needed cutting and were all sticky from blood and his face was covered by a thick beard filled with dirt and dried blood.

He left the lab. On the way, he stopped at the infirmary to check on Sarah. Her condition was still the same as when he had left for the relay station.

Fawkes and Tristan still had not returned and there was a good chance they would stay at the relay station for a while longer.

"Well, you're back."

Damian turned around and saw Elder Lyons walking towards him. He had only left him a few hours ago but he felt as if the Elder had aged several years in that short time.

"I have been informed of the results of the operation and I am beginning to wonder if it was a good idea to send you there with Prime."

"No one could foresee what was going to happen," Damian replied.

Lyons nodded slowly.

"Yes, but we have to admit that the situation is not to our advantage and that failure would be... Catastrophic."

"Nothing is decided in advance," said Damian, trying to reassure him.

"I hope with all my heart that you are right."

His eyes were blank. Lyons' mind had to be focused on his daughter's condition and Damian could not blame him. Between the Enclave on the one hand, the Super Mutant on the other, and the Outcasts, who from what Damian had heard, had gotten it into their heads to harass the Brotherhood patrols, Lyons must not have had a minute to himself, and adding the condition his daughter was in, it was amazing he hadn't snapped already.

"Paladin Tristan requested your assignment to his special squad and given your importance, I naturally accepted. He will contact you to inform you of the situation and your next assignment. In the meantime, you should get some rest. Just pick up one of our long-range radios at the armory if you decide to go your own way. Now, if you'll excuse me... I have some mission reports waiting for me."

Lyons dragged himself to his office under Damian's gaze.

The armory at the Citadel was a small room. Locked behind a gate and a counter, a young Brotherhood initiate was reading a half-burned magazine and watched over the large stock of ammunition and weapons stored behind her.

Hearing Damian enter, she quickly closed her magazine and rose from her stool to stand at attention.

Damian was struggling to get used to his new status within the Brotherhood and always found it strange that people would stand at attention when they saw him, as he did not need to do so when he was in the presence of Lyons or the other Paladins.

"I've come to get a long-range radio."

The young initiate grabbed a notepad and scrolled through several pages before sliding it to Damian through the grid. The sheet she had presented to him had a chart with the names and ranks of the Brotherhood members, the type of equipment borrowed, and two dates, each corresponding to the time the weapon went out and returned to the armory.

The young initiate slipped a pen to Damian and began to stare at him with stars in her eyes.

"You are lucky to be able to go on a mission away from the Citadel," said the young woman without taking her eyes off Damian.

Damian mumbled an answer. The intense gaze of the young initiate made him uncomfortable. He did not know whether she was looking at him like that because she finally had someone to talk to or because she was looking at the "legendary Lonely Wanderer".

He scribbled something on the paper and gave it back to the young woman with the pen. She finally looked down and looked at Damian's signature. She signed in turn and put the notepad away in a drawer before she walked away and disappeared into the maze of shelves behind her.

Damian heard her searching for a few seconds, giving him time to admire the collection of energy weapons the Brotherhood had in stock. The young woman reappeared carrying a large khaki-colored walkie-talkie with her. Damian immediately recognized the radio model used in the Anchorage simulation. The young woman unlocked the gate and gave the radio to Damian.

"You know how to use it?" asked the initiate.

Guessing that the young woman just wanted to talk to someone for more than 30 seconds, Damian asked her to explain to him how the radio worked.

"Good luck out there," the young woman smiled broadly after her explanation.

Damian nodded awkwardly and left the armory with the radio strap around his shoulder.

Damian crossed the Tidal Basin and arrived at the foot of the Jefferson Memorial. It was the first time he had seen it so closely since the Battle of Project Purity and he realized how much the place had suffered.

There were large craters around the building. On the road leading from the ruins in D.C. to the Memorial, Damian had come small groups of scavengers, still looking, even after two weeks, for empty cartridges, pieces of power armor or trying to access Vertibirds wrecks in the buildings or the river.

On the dyke separating the Potomac from the Basin was a wreck of a Vertibird but this one was jealously guarded by the Brotherhood and prevented the scavengers from approaching it.

The fortifications installed by the Enclave were still there, occupied by the Brotherhood who watched over the river and the bank of the Potomac or watched the small junk-boat of the merchants on their way to Rivet City from Alexandria Arms or from the South.

Damian almost stumbled and when he looked at the ground, he saw that it was also turned over by large footprints left by Liberty Prime as it passed.

Amidst all these remnants of the battle, the Brotherhood and Rivet City security had set up loading and unloading bays for caravans. The Brahmins were loaded with large yellow metal barrels with the Brotherhood emblem painted on them.

The water distribution seemed to run smoothly judging by the number of caravans coming in and out of the Basin, so Damian wondered what the differences of opinion mentioned by Lyons earlier might be.

He was intrigued by this story and wanted to make sure that his parents' legacy was in the hands of the right and competent people.

Damian walked past a small group of soldiers sitting next to several mortars in a pit and entered the Jefferson Memorial.

Lighting had been turned on with field lamps and generators. Part of the hallway leading to the shop had been converted into a reception area. A Brotherhood scribe sat there with his nose in a file. He heard Damian come in and, recognizing him, waved his hand and invited him in.

The shop was bustling with activity. Several Brotherhood scribes were busy with men and women in white lab coats, commenting on diagrams drawn on blackboards or trying to clean spare parts for the purifier pipes.

Damian walked to the rotunda. The control room was immaculate and several people in lab coats were watching the purifier's computer instruments. All trace of the shooting between him and Autumn had disappeared.

Damian went up to the control room. Through the transparent pipes, he could see the water flowing quickly to the statue of Thomas Jefferson. The water swirling inside the tank was so clear that it was possible to admire the statue, something previously impossible.

Damian looked down at the floor, just in front of the main console of the purifier. Two weeks earlier, he had been lying on this cold, metallic floor, right where his father had died, and he was about to join him and his mother.

"Excuse me, but this is a restricted area."

Out of his thoughts, Damian turned around, ready to apologize, when he saw Alex Dargon, one of Doctor Li and his father's team members.

"Oh, it's you!" said the scientist with a smile. "Sorry, I didn't recognize you."

He frantically shook Damian's hand.

"We heard that you were in a deep coma right after the purifier turned on. Glad to see you're feeling better."

"Thank you, good to see you too. Speaking of which, any idea what might have happened?" Damian asked.

"Not the slightest, no," answered Alex, shaking his head. "We're still trying to find out what happened, but now everything is working perfectly."

Damian looked again at the water surrounding the statue and the rest of the control room.

"Impressive, huh?" Alex commented.

Damian nodded back.

"Your father would be proud, I think. I… I don't think I had time to before, so… My condolences for your loss."

"Thanks."

Damian looked around him and faced Alex again.

"Where the Doctor Li?" he asked. "I haven't seen nor talk to her, since the battle."

Alex looked sad.

"Madison's gone. Between losing your father, fighting the Enclave and now the Brotherhood taking over, she couldn't handle it."

Damian nodded in silent. She probably did not accept the fact that Project Purity's lead went to the Brotherhood, as she was probably already seeing herself leading everything while everyone obeyed without saying anything.

"Too bad," lied Damian, who somewhere was rejoicing that the arrogant scientist was no longer there.

"It's been hard on her, you know," Alex continued. "But yes, it's a shame, we could use her on the team."

Alex paused for a few seconds while he chatted with another scientist and read a report.

"Excuse me," he said, turning back to Damian.

"Don't mind. I heard that Lyons had a problem with one of the scribes from the purifier."

"Oh, you must be talking about Scribe Bigsley. He's the one who's running the whole place from A to Z now. If you want to see him, his office is in the old shop. Just follow the long waiting line."

Alex Dargon walked away to go check out a monitor in the control room. Damian returned to the shop, wondering what the scientist could have meant by 'the long waiting line'.

He understood when he saw several Brotherhood scribes and scientists standing in front of an open door leading to a large, messy desk where piles of papers, empty Nuka-Cola bottles and dirty coffee cups were piled up.

Sitting in front of a computer with his head resting against his arm on the desk was a Brotherhood scribe in his wrinkled red dress. The man's hair was a mess and Damian could hear him snoring.

"Wait, that's the guy who runs the purifier? Is this a joke?" Damian thought dumbfounded by what he saw.

The line of scribes and scientists were looking at each other, embarrassed and uncomfortable, each whispering to each other who would have the courage to wake him up to tell him about their various problems and suffer his bad mood.

Damian rolled his eyes, sighed and went past the line and entered the office. He knocked against the door but got no reaction from the scribe. Damian stepped forward and cleared his throat. The scribe continued to sleep.

Damian looked over his shoulder at the waiting line. No one seemed offended by the fact he had overtaken everyone. He faces the sleeping scribe and banged his fist on the desk. The scribe woke up with a start and looked around. His face was tired, and Damian noticed large dark circles under his bloodshed eyes. The man looked as if he hadn't slept in days and judging by the smell of caffeine in his office, he was trying everything he could not to fall asleep.

The scribe saw Damian and mumbled something unintelligible before yawning.

"You know, I was just thinking about you," he said, struggling to keep his eyes open. "I have to admit that you have courage. Putting your life on the line for the purifier. But I guess you have no idea how much it has made my life a living hell? The great Lone Wanderer must have other problems to deal with."

"Well, hello to you too," Damian answered.

The scribe grumbled something and ran his hand over his face.

"Excuse me, my name is Bigsley, and as you can see, I'm a bit on edge."

He slid his hand over the desk looking for a full cup of coffee or a bottle of Nuka-Cola.

"Yes, I can see that," Damian replied, looking at the line behind him and the mess in the room.

"Lyons doesn't understand that I'm completely at the end of my life here."

Bigsley was starting to ramble and seemed to have forgotten Damian's presence.

"No one can imagine what a logistical nightmare it is to organize and manage the purifier."

"Uh... You..."

"No," continued Bigsley, who seemed to have gone in an endless monologue. "No one cares how I'm going to fix the problems with the delivery of Aqua Pura to Megaton, or how I'm going to pay the caravans, or..."

Several bursts of voices echoed through the museum and Bigsley seemed to return to reality. A woman, with black hair cut short, dressed in Rivet City security armor and with a furious look on her face, burst into the scribe's office.

She walked by Damian without seeing him and put her hands violently on the desk, spilling several empty cups and piles of files, which crashed to the floor, under Bigsley's horrified eyes.

"Bigsley! That's the seventh time in three days! When do you plan to solve the problem?"

Bigsley, at the verge of a collapsing from his seat and sleep, stared at the young woman and was visibly trying to remember her name.

"Hey!" Damian called out to her.

"Take a number and wait your turn!" spat at the woman, still staring at the scribe.

"Officer… Lepelletier...," sighed Bigsley who seemed to realize his day was about to get even worse than it already was. "I've already..."

"My men are being gunned down one by one! The water caravans are being attacked and stripped, and it's not done by your everyday Raiders gangs or Super Mutants! What do you intend to do about it?"

Damian looked at poor Bigsley, who was probably thinking about shooting himself in the head rather than finding a solution for the angry woman.

"You say your caravans are being attacked?" Damian intervened.

"Yes!" cried the woman. "It's been three days since all of our caravans leaving Jefferson Memorial have been targeted! What are you going to do about the problem, Bigsley?"

"I can take care of it if you want."

The woman turned to Damian. She was going to answer him, but she just stared at him. She looked at Bigsley again and sighed and shook her head. She left the office under the terrified gaze of the scientists and scribes.

"I guess that's just the tip of the iceberg of problems you have to deal with?" Damian asked with a slight smirk.

Bigsley replied with a grunt.

"Look, I can handle these problems for you," Damian said, before the scribe fell asleep again.

"If you do, I'll pay you, all right," Bigsley grunted, massaging his head.

He motioned for Damian to close the door.

"Look," Bigsley said. "The people of Megaton keep sending Lyons letters of complaints and grievances, so much so that he now has more such letters than mission reports on his desk."

"What's the problem?" Damian asked.

"They want water. More water. Even more and more water. But as soon as I send them some, I get the same refrain. 'More water! No more Aqua Pura!". What do they make of all this water? Did they decide to turn their damn crater into a public swimming pool? If so, drown yourself in it and maybe I'll finally get some peace."

"I'll see what I can do."

Bigsley seemed relieved. The scribe threatened to fall asleep. Damian left the office and heard the scribe breathe a long sigh of desperation as he saw the waiting line move and enter his office.

On leaving the museum, Damian stopped on the scaffolding overlooking the pool. The rumbling of the pipes pouring, and pumping water covered all other noises. On the bank, Damian noticed several Brotherhood soldiers burning the corpses of Mirelurks. The purified water must have been poisonous to them. Eden was finally going to have some of the fauna of the Wasteland killed by a purifier, as he had wished.

Damian came down from the scaffolding and walked around the museum. Arriving behind, he looked to the right and left and raised his head to the dome. There was no one there, and this side of the museum had been rather spared from the recent fighting. Damian watched the Potomac and the few merchant boats that were either going East, up the river to get around the ruins of D.C. or going down South.

Damian searched the ground around him and recovered two small planks of wood. He reached into his pockets and his bag and grabbed a small piece of string and began to tie the two planks together to form a cross and pulled out his trench knife and carved one of the planks. He repeated the operation with another pair of planks.

He looked around again and found a small space at the foot of the museum. Damian dug a few centimeters into the ground with his knife and planted the two crosses, using the butt of his pistol as a hammer.

Damian put his weapons away and took a few steps back. He looked at the cross from the left and sighed for a long time before crouching down.

"There you go, Dad. It's not very luxurious or ideal, but times are hard, so I made do with what I could find."

A sad little smile appeared on his face as he read the name "James" engraved on the cross.

"I don't know where you are right now, but... You must be with Mom, in a better place than here. Well, Mankind dropped so much crap and bombs during the Great War that I wouldn't be surprised if Heaven and Hell were as irradiated as the rest of the Wasteland.

He ran his hand over his face and through his hair.

"If only you could see this place," he said, looking up at the museum. "The dream of your life to you and Mom has finally come true. The water flows through the pipes, the G.E.C.K. purifies the water and the Brotherhood distributes it to every corners of the Capital Wasteland, for free, just as you wished. The process seems a bit slow, and I'm sure that... You'd be trying so hard to make it faster, but it's a good start."

Damian took a deep breath and tried to hold back his tears.

"There's... There's so much more I'd like to ask you or tell you. You've always been a role model for me and..."

He wiped the tears from his cheeks and sniffed loudly.

"I miss you, Dad," he managed to articulate. "I'm proud and grateful for everything you've done, whether it's Project Purity or... Or the fact that you chose to sacrifice everything to give me a better life."

Damian cried for several minutes, silently. He wiped his face and raised his head to the cross.

"I... I, too, want to help make the Wasteland a better place. To honor what you and Mom did, for... For all the people I've met since I came out of the Vault and helped me. And for Amata.

He was silent for a few seconds and looked up at the sky and the river behind him. He turned to the second cross, on which was engraved the name "Catherine".

"Mom," said Damian. "We... We haven't been together for a long time, but... I hope that you too are in a better place with Dad. I wish I could have got to know you and... And grown up with you both, in the Vault, or wherever."

He sighed and wiped away the tears from his eyes again.

"I have a lot of work ahead of me," he said with a slight smile. "I... I hope you're proud of me and the choices I've made. Goodbye, Dad, Mom. I love you."

Damian arrived at Rivet City. The city was still overflowing with activity and small stands had been set up next to the boarding bridge and near the metro station. On the way, he had crossed some Brotherhood patrols, trying to stop some scavengers from selling Enclave technologies found on the battlefield.

Sheltered under the metal railing and under a tent, many caravanners were resting on deckchairs or old sofas with holes in them, next to their Brahmins and a pile of yellow barrels from the purifier.

Damian observed the different stands. If the woman he had seen earlier was from Rivet City and was in charge of the water caravans, then she must have been in one of the stands.

He found her sitting at a small desk under the boarding bridge. When the woman saw him, she frowned.

"I saw you with Bigsley, didn't I?" she asked.

"Yes, name's Damian Franklin."

"Officer Lepelletier," introduced the woman.

"I understand you've been having trouble with the water caravans."

"Since you attended my... My discussion with Bigsley, you know as much as any of us do. I'm understaffed and I have to send fresh recruits out to watch over the caravans, knowing full well how it's going to end."

"Do you have any idea who's attacking your men?"

Lepelletier shook her head and sighed.

"No. It doesn't look like the raiding parties we usually handle and it's too organized to be a common mutant attack. All I know is that I've got a caravan leaving today for Canterbury Commons and I've just assigned my least experienced men to it."

"What do you need?" Damian asked.

The young woman seemed a little surprised and had trouble hiding her smile.

"I didn't expect you to offer your help. Anyway, you must escort the caravan, and when it is attacked, you would have to find out who is behind the ambush and deal with them."

Lepelletier stood up and called one of another guard and asked him where the caravan was. The caravan had already left for Project Purity twenty minutes earlier. Hearing this, Lepelletier swore in and turned to Damian.

"Go after my men and protect them. Their route takes them along the river from the purifier. Hurry and if the job is done well, I'll make sure you get paid."

Damian nodded and headed back for the purifier. When he arrived there, he questioned one of the soldiers of the Brotherhood about the caravan and Lepelletier's men. The soldier shrugged and in turn asked another soldier who informed Damian that the caravan had already left.

Damian began to follow the river and heard gunshots a little further on. He hurried and arrived not far from the bridge linking D.C. to the Citadel. The shots came from that direction.

Three silhouettes equipped with assault rifles and wearing metal armor with spikes and motorcycle helmets stood behind a wall of tires and fired at a brahmin lying on the side.

Behind the brahmin, a woman wearing Rivet City security armor was vainly trying to resuscitate one of her colleagues.

Damian approached and began firing at the three figures in metal armor. He jumped over the corpse of a man in a merchant's outfit and knelt next to the young woman.

"Who are you?" she asked, raising her head in panic and terror.

"Lepelletier sent me," Damian answered.

The young woman seemed relieved. Damian felt a sheaf of blood on his face. The young woman had just been shot in the head and the plexiglass visor of her helmet had exploded and her face was nothing but a bloody mud. She collapsed on her companion's body.

Damian hit the dirt. He heard the laughter of the three assailants a little further on. Damian rummaged through his bag and grabbed a grenade. He pulled the pin, counted to three and threw it. A hiccup of surprise gave way to an explosion.

Damian got up and removed the dirt and blood from his face. The trailer had been decimated. Lepelletier's two agents were dead, as was the merchant. Damian approached the three assailants. They, too, were dead. Damian began to search them. On one of the corpses he found an holotape. He inserted it into his Pip-Boy and began to listen, as a raspy, authoritative voice came out of his computer's speakers.

"Hi, this is Split Jack. I'm recording this because I'm sure not half of them can read."

The tape sizzled and Damian feared it might have been damaged in the explosion.

"... Attacks the water mules while... With the Enclave... All water deliveries... Will sell the water ... "

Fortunately, the rest of the tape was less damaged, and Damian knew where to go for the end of his mission. The group responsible for the attacks was holed up at Wilhelm's Wharf and had even found a password to recognize each other.

Damian stripped the merchant from his jacket and putted it over his combat armor, to hide the fact that he was a Ranger and diminish his chances of being shot on sight by the Raiders. He climbed back on the bridge and crossed the river before heading north. He arrived near where the Talon Company had ambushed him and Sarah, and Damian began to wonder if the attacks were not the work of the mercenary group.

The dock in front of Wilhelm's Wharf was occupied by several people. They all wore the same attire as the attackers of Lepelletier's men, metal armor and motorcycle helmets. One of the people present, a man, was sitting at a table just across the entrance to the Wilhelm's Wharf cabin. He was not wearing a helmet and had an eyepatch over his right eye and had a moustache and black goatee and had the entire right side of his head shaved clean.

Damian approached him under the scornful glances of the others. If he had learned anything about the Raiders groups in the Wasteland, was that whoever looked the most mean, vicious, or nasty was usually the leader of the group. In this case, it was more of a gang than a raider group.

"Who the hell are you?" spat the man with the eyepatch.

The other gang members approached and gave Damian a nasty look.

"So, you lost your tongue? Damn, why do I always have to get weirdos."

"Is this the place to hire? asked Damian, who had decided to find out as much as possible about the gang before taking action.

"Password," grunted the man with the eyepatch.

"Mirelurk Stew," Damian replied.

The man's expression softened a little and Damian saw the other gang members scatter.

'Good, it's very simple," the man said. "I'm Split Jack and here I'm the toughest one, so I set the rules and I only have one rule, you do what I say, when I say it."

One of the gang members approached them and, trying to hide that he was uncomfortable, cleared his throat.

"Say, Jack, what's the plan? We've been sitting here for hours doing nothing."

A grin appeared on Split Jack's face and he nodded his head and pointed the way to Rivet City.

"We keep attacking the water caravans and when Rivet City gets tired of seeing their security guards dying, we'll go to them and offer our protection. That way, we control the water and with access to the pure water, we can start to sell it and make a lot of caps."

"Why would people or Rivet City pay for something they can have for free?"

Everyone turned to Damian and stared at him. Split Jack clenched his jaw.

"Because I'm the boss, and I've decided that's the way we're going to do it. But if you have a problem with that, you can always work it out with me."

Split Jack stood up and grabbed a knife and a metal pipe from his back and put them on the table. One of the gang members put down a plank of nailed wood and Damian knew what would happen next.

"Your choice," Split Jack said with a smirk.

Damian looked at the three weapons in front of him and stepped back.

"Pistol," he said, raising his head.

The man with the eyepatch grimaced and gave him an evil look.

"Did I mention guns?"

"No, but I did."

Damian kicked the table, which slid into the legs of Split Jack, who stumbled and fell. At the same time, Damian drew his gun and eliminated the other gang members who had no time to react.

He confronted Split Jack who had got up and ran at him with a knife. Damian dodged the blow and kicked his opponent in the back. The man in the blindfold staggered to the edge of the dock. He stood up and saw the barrel of Damian's gun pointed at him.

Damian fired. Split Jack swung back and fell into the river. Damian looked around and heard the cabin door open behind his back. He turned around and saw an old lady coming out of the cabin.

The old woman looked at the dead bodies on the dock and looked up at Damian.

"You killed my best customers," she said reproachfully.

"Did you know they were Raiders?" Damian asked.

The old woman shrugged.

"I never ask indiscreet questions. Anyway, on the bright side, we now have plenty of bait for the Mirelurks."

Damian reloaded his pistol and put it back in his holster with a grimace. The old woman had already started collecting the bodies behind her cabin and seemed to no longer care about him. Damian retrieved the few magazines he found on the bodies and headed for Megaton.


Hope you enjoyed.

What did you think about the whole, putting a cross for Damian's parents? Might be a little cliché, I admit, but it's something I really wanted to put in the story.

Until next time.