Brushing his hand along the rusted remains of a motorcycle, Simon thought back to what had just happened. He'd cheated death twice today, firstly because the Brotherhood realized they shouldn't have detained him in the first place, and secondly because his gut told him the briefcase was more than it seemed. The sign was down the street from him now, but the words on it could not slip his mind. Cascadia Rises. He'd heard that name before, but could barely remember anything more than it being some kind of militia in the area. Bombing a building certainly didn't seem like militia activity to Simon. Simon continued down the street, passing several makeshift homes made in the ruins of former shops on the ground floor of the massive highrises. From afar, Simon could hear the distinct whooping sound of a rotorcraft approaching. He turned around and looked up to see a Vertibird descending rapidly towards the police station. A Brotherhood Knight sat on the edge of the cabin, holding a minigun in his lap and watching the city pass under his dangling feet. Simon watched as the Vertibird touched down just outside the precinct and the soldiers rushed out and secured the scene, forming a human wall between the growing crowd and the building.
Simon remembered that Captain Martinez had made a remark about a holotape being in his backpack when she returned it. Now to find somewhere to listen to it. He continued down the street, passing by a group of people warming their hands by a fire barrel. The sun was now covered up by grey clouds, bringing the all too familiar gloomy feeling back to Seattle.
One of the people at the barrel turned, "Were you in the building when that bomb went off?"
Simon stopped, "Yeah. I'm lucky I made it in one piece."
The man looked him up and down, and questioned, "You from a Vault?"
"I suppose so. I just woke up in the station with no idea how I got there, and apparently this belonged to me," Simon shrugged.
The man scoffed and turned back to the others at the fire, "Damn Caskies. Can't have one day of peace in this damn city."
Simon continued down the road, before a well lit sign caught his attention. The neon lights brought some color to an otherwise dark city. The West End. Looked like it was some kind of old hotel from before the bombs fell. Several people stood outside, clearly drunk off their asses. Simon approached the doors to the building, as one of the patrons staggered in front of him.
"Hey hey buddy, spare any caps so I can get a drink?" the guy slurred. His breath reeked of vodka and he was missing several teeth.
Scott tried passing the guy, "Not today, friend. Sorry."
The man threw his arms out, "What? You think you're all special because you're some Vault person? All pure blood and shit? You don't know what it's like out here man."
Simon remained quiet, but the man followed him, pushing him from behind, "What's your deal man? Think I won't just take your caps?"
Simon turned around slowly, "I think you're forgetting that the Brotherhood just got bombed, and are looking for anyone who might look just the teensiest bit suspicious to blame." The man growled, and moved to grab Simon. Without a moment's hesitation, Simon swept the man's leg, leaving him flat on his back, gasping for air.
Dusting off his hands, Simon entered the West End. It had a very nice lobby for what was clearly the local bar. Several patrons populated the tables spaced out across, and a bartender worked at a round bar in the center of the lobby, made out of what used to be the check in desks. Simon walked up and leaned on the makeshift bar, waiting to be helped.
"You're new," the bartender said, making his way over. "Name's Harry, but everyone just calls me Hooch." He was an older man, with long white hair tied back into a ponytail. He wore thick rimmed glasses, and a stained white shirt with suspenders.
"Simon. What is this place?" the man in the Vault suit replied, pointing his thumb at himself.
Cleaning a glass, Hooch said, "This, my friend, is the West End. Used to be a luxury hotel before the war, then it was a refugee building or something, and now it's back to being a hotel… with a bar in the lobby. Been running this place since '68." Hooch set the glass down and pulled two beers from underneath the bar, sliding one over to Simon, who sat down. "You from around here?" Hooch asked, taking a drink.
Simon set down his backpack and put the beer to his lips, letting it flow into his mouth. "I don't know. I woke up this morning in a Brotherhood jail cell, no idea how I got there. Or even in this city, for that manner," he replied. "I barely escaped getting executed. Turns out I wasn't on their list at all."
Hooch laughed, "Classic Brotherhood blundery. Lucky you got out though, heard about that bombing too. You there for that?"
Nodding, Simon explained, "Yeah. Just before I left."
Hooch paused as he was raising his beer, "You've seen a lot today already eh?"
"I guess so. There was a sign outside too, by whoever did it I think. Something about Cascadia rising up and breaking the chains," Simon replied.
Hooch set his beer down and sighed, "Damn, they're getting way bolder. You know anything about the Caskies?" Simon shook his head, so Hooch continued, "The Caskies, or Cascadians as they like to call themselves, are basically this group that… actually let me back up. You know anything about what's going on right now? Ah who am I kidding, you don't.
"So we're in Seattle, right. Where we sit right now is in the heart of the Brotherhood's territory. They control a good chunk of downtown through their Crusades, where they'll basically form a base in an unsafe area and then grow it over time. This was one of the first. Probably the biggest. They keep us safe, we grow them food and make them ammo. And most of all, pay them taxes. Used to be a pretty sweet deal, until the Schism about, oh, five or six years back?"
Simon questioned, "The Schism?"
Hooched shrugged, "That's what they called it, I have no clue what it is. They got a lot more brutal after they announced it. More likely to take your stuff, harsh punishments for the tiniest offenses. Just east of here, 'cross the freeway is FCH."
Looking at the floor, Simon said softly, "My cellmate told me a little bit about that before she…"
"I'm sorry, man, that sucks," Hooch said as Simon motioned for him to continue. "FCH and the Brotherhood have a… tough relationship, if you could even call it that. Brotherhood hates them, FCH hates the Brotherhood, it's a cycle. There's only been some big fights once, and believe it or not the Caps won. Sort of. They kept their walls up and have their hippie heaven up there or whatever it is, and the Brotherhood in response just put up checkpoints on all the roads leading to it and taxes the everloving hell out of the merchants."
"Why doesn't the Brotherhood just try and take it again?" Simon asked.
"Ah, yes, the age old question. Well, nobody really knows besides them, but if you want my opinion, it's so they can keep raking in that tax money from the merchants without having to waste resources trying to take the Hill," Hooch swirled his beer around.
"So who are the Caskies?"
Hooch's index finger shot up, "Ah yeah, thanks for the reminder. So, the Cascadia National Front, as they like to call themselves, are basically a group of militias under one banner who have one goal: kick the Brotherhood out of Seattle."
Simon scoffed, "How's that going? Seems like blowing up civilians will only make people turn to the Brotherhood more."
Hooch replied, "Well, like I said people aren't entirely fans of the Brotherhood. Ask anyone and they probably know someone who's seen the bottom side of a Knights boot, or been under it themselves. See, the Cascadia shit didn't just start when the Brotherhood showed up. Apparently they're pre-war groups, trying to secede from the US before the bombs fell. They're mostly outside the city, I've got no idea where they're based, sure as shit isn't Bellevue though."
Simon looked at him, puzzled, and finished his beer.
Hooch rapped his hand on the counter, "Damn, you're either dumber than a box of rocks, or you really aren't from here. Another beer?" Simon nodded.
As Hooch moved to get another beer, another patron caught his attention. Simon took this moment to look at his Pip Boy. He had a file titled DIRECTIVE OMEGA - AUTHORIZED VIEWERS ONLY. Curious, Simon opened the file and began reading:
UNITED STATES ARMY PRIORITY TRANSMISSION
ENCRYPTION CODE: DELTA
FROM: GERONIMO
TO: SITTING BULL
DATE: OCTOBER 14th, 2077
SUBJECT: DIRECTIVE OMEGA
CLASSIFICATION: EYES ONLY, RECIPIENT
[START]
General Wells,
Directive Omega has been issued. Intelligence thinks the Reds could hit us at any moment, so we need to be ready in case that happens. Proceed to CASTLE BRAVO as soon as possible. The facilities have been prepared for some time now, so everything should be in order. Remember, tell nobody. Not even your troops can know about this. The fate of America and democracy rest on your shoulders, General.
"Anyways, where was I?" Hooch returned from the other patron, two more beers in hand. Simon stared wide-eyed at the file, before collecting himself.
"You were saying something about Bellevue. Something about them not being there, how do you know that?"
Hooch stared at him, "Because Bellevue is a crater. The whole city is gone. There's no way in hell they'd be out there. Not even the Brotherhood goes out there, even with their power armor shielding 'em from radiation."
Simon let out a cool whistle before Hooch continued, "Anyways, the Caskies and Brotherhood have always been at odds, but things have really stepped up lately. They'll take some potshots at a patrol or blow up a building, and the Brotherhood will respond by imprisoning random people or just wiping out a settlement outside the city to send a message. Gets worse every day." Hooch took a sip of his beer, "But hey, it's not all bad here. You ought to go check out the old university across the bridge, some ghouls set up their own community and everything. They've thought of some shit that not even the Brotherhood could dream of making. So," he paused, "Can I do anything else for ya?
Simon knocked back the last of his beer and said, "Yes, actually. I need a room."