Fallout True North

by Tim Jackson

The adventures of a couple of Canadians in the Peg. After the bombs fell.

Fallout True North, Introduction.

War, war never changes. Mankind has tried to harness atomic power since the droping of the first atomic bomb. Man had made great leaps in technology. From Domestic robots to laser and plasma weapons and atomic powered vehicles. In twenty seventy-six, shortages hit North America. In a show of sregnth the United States invaded and took over Canada. On October twenty-nineth, twenty seventy-seven, communist China drops atomic bombs on all of America, including Canada.

Those who survived did so in large underground shelters known as vaults. Having lost a war with the United States and getting bombed by Communist China, Canadians have suffered. They lost their identity and their herritage. When the surivors left their vaults they had to scavenge for pieces to pick up in the Northern Wasteland. The world hasn't ended. Life finds a way to move on. And war, war never changes.

Chapter one, Cruel Beginings.

"This is bullshit!" Devon yelled! "Bad enough we get taken over by the Americans. Even worse, we get the crap bombed out of us! But now we're left to fend for ourselves! We hunt, scavenge, and kill raiders! All for what?"

"Gear, wepons, and caps. Look, we're close to the Portage Place settlement. We can rest up there." Mark Jacobs replied. The two started off as vaultdewellers exploring the wasteland in their vault suits armed with ten millimeter pistols. After exploring and doing a few jobs Mark picked up a duster outfit from a dead wastelander. He also picked up a tire iron. Devon picked up different pieces to make up a full suit of raider armor. Mark found a hard hat and welding goggles. Devon found an army helmet shades. They were on a job for an old man in an old style sweater and dress pants. The guy would not shut up about "the good old U.S.A." He would preach about how much better things have became since the invasion. Devon wanted to shoot the guy but Mark held him back. They needed the job. There was an R.C.M.P building. A further down near the Polo Park settlement. Their job was to find whatever they can but he was sure there was a red traditonal R.C.M.P uniform there. Complete with service revolver. The two figured the old man wanted the service revolver. It was rumoured to be a forty five calibre. Once they made it to the Portage Place settlement they found a rest area and laid down. The food court still had cooks working but there was only so much variety. From Mutt chops to Grilled Radroach and Mole Rat Chunks there were plenty of meat to go around. Hunting is easy if the animals saw you as lunch. Mark had some of his own. They rested for a bit and ate what they could. Sure there was some food that were well preserved like Fancy Lads Snack Cakes, Potato Crisps, and Nuka Cola. Those foods have absorbed radiation. They're still edible but you take rads after eating them. Mark opened a bottle of Nuka Cola and started drinking. He took off his goggles and hard hat to reveal crew cut brown hair. Devon's was a lighter red. Mark handed Devon a stick of Crispy Squirrel Bits. He took it and ate it.

"You know, with all this rubble you think it's possible for Canada to be it's own country again?" Devon asked.

"I believe so. We just need to find a crap load of Canadian flags and put them on flag poles everywhere." Mark replied with a shrug.

"It can't be that easy!" Devon said waving it off.

"No but it's a start. Once Canadians get the idea of taking Canada back they'll band together and reclaim their country." Mark said.

"Well, we need to find better jobs, man. Sure I don't mind taking on raiders, but I want better weapons, better armor, and a home I can crash in." Devon said.

"That's what we all want. But that can be done. Just have to look for a bunker and you're halfway there. There are still radio towers up. Set one up and you might get a signal." Mark replied.

"But I want more than that. I want power armor. A T60 power armor. Not the T45 crap!" Devon said.

"I like the T45! It has a nice look to it. I'd upgrade it to a T45b. But first I need to find a couple of aluminum baseball bats, some spikes, a couple of heavy chains, and some Wonderglue." Mark replied.

"Chain wrapped? Not bladed?" Devon asked.

"I'm not that good yet. But hey it's something!" Mark replied.

"Baseball bats are easy to get. There could be some for sale here." Devon suggested.

"I'll go check." Mark said before getting up. He looked around in the shops. He found everything he needed. After a few hours he returned to Devon with two chain wrapped aluminum baseball bats. With that they were ready to embark once again on their journey. They had all the time in the world to get the job done.

The city was changed. Buildings were reduced to rubble. There used to be a series of bridges called the Skywalk. Those bridges were destroyed. The duo came up to the CBC radio building. They heard grunts and growls.

"Ghouls. Dare we go in." Devon asked.

"Not yet. We'll need a few land mines and grenades. There might be a glowing one." Mark replied.

"Good thinking. We'll find someting in the RCMP building." Devon said. They walked on. They made it to the RCMP building. It took a beating but was still intact. The front was blocked with rubble. They had to go through the back. The back was where the parking garrage was kept. They gained entry through the metal door that had dropped to the ground. They found their way to the locker room. Searching the lockers they found a cahe of tactical vests, nine millimeter pistols and ammo. Mark had his bat ready. Searching the offices he came across the area where the confiscated weapons were kept. He did a general search. He found knuckles, switchblades, lead pipes, and a homemade revolver. It looked big. Mark picked it up. It was a forty-four. Sure it wasn't a Magnum but with a few modifications it could serve as well. The gun looked rusty. This was one of the pipe pistols that has been gaining popularity. These guns were made cheap and easy to mass produce without the manufacturing technology that no one could get working. Still it was better than nothing. This gun had a different feel to it. It wasn't the grip. There was something to this gun. Mark felt inspired. The things he could add to it. Longer barrel, better grip, and a better sight. The gun needed a barrel. Mark kept the revolver. The rest was material to be collected later. The search led them to the basement. Of course, this was where the boiler room and the rest of the storrage was kept. The found the uniform they were looking for. Along with a Hot Rod magazine. Hot Rod magazine typically had articles on paintjobs. This magazine had a falme paintjob. Red with black flames. Mark's favourite colors. He kept it for if he became lucky enough to find a full suit of power armor. It would only be a matter of time. Devon caught up to him.

"This is too easy." Devon said.

"I know." Mark said. Then the ground shook. Molebeavers sprang up from the ground. Molebeavers were just like molerats, but bigger and with a flat tail and larger teeth. The battle was on. Mark made one go splat with a downward swing. Devon put a few down with a few shots from his nine millimeter.

"Others get Molerats. We get Molebeavers!" Devon complained.

"Hey, they're good for meat." Mark said while putting one down in mid air. After the molebeavers were shot dead Mark took out a knife and cut the meat. "Well, now all we need is a campfire and we'll be set for a while." Mark said.

"I want an automatic rifle! An M14 at least!" Devon grumbled!

"Just a hunting rifle is good enough for me. One shot one kill." Mark replied.

"I know you're a sniper. You find anyhting?" Devon asked.

"Knuckles, switchblades, lead pipes, and a home made forty-four." Mark replied.

"A pipe revolver?" Devon asked. Mark showed him.

"I hate those. Six shots is never enough!" Devon said.

"I don't know. After a few modifications it'll be more useful." Mark replies.

"What kind of modifications?" Devon asked.

"A longer barrel obviously. A more comfortable grip. Other than that, what could be better?" Mark asked.

"How about a rifle stock?" Devon asked half heartedly.

"A revolver rifle? I can do that." Mark replied.

"I was half joking." Devon said.

"I know. But doesn't make it a bad idea." Mark replied.

They had found what the old man was looking for. It was time to make their way back.

They made it back to the Portage Place settlement. Mark found the campfire and made Molebeaver roasts. They ate while they rested. The last leg of their mission would take them to Osborne Village. There the old man would take the red uniform put it on display and give them their caps. It was odd jobs like these that kep them going. But here in the Peg scavenging was a way of life. You scavenged for scrap and traded for what you need. It was the wild west all over again. There was no form of government. There were only factions. The Brotherhood of Steel maintained a presence here. They were not popular but their mission was still the same. Look for dangerous technology and either lock it away or destroy it. They believe it was mankind's abuse of technology that put humanity on the brink of extinction. There was nothing big here in the Peg so they were stationed in Ronto. They needed their robots to get through Quebec. The Quebs were as proud of their French heritage as the Brotherhood was of their American heritage. But the Brotherhood Paladins were quick to remind everyone that their mission was for all of humanity, not just America. The Quebs were so proud of their French heritage they would snub those who didn't speak French. Another faction that has a presence here in the Peg was the Railroad. There was a museum near an area called the Forks. Two rivers met at the Forks. The Red and the Assinaboine River. The place would flood every spring, making it an ideal nesting ground for Mirelurks. Mutated fish and crabs. The Railroad used to smuggle slaves into Canada where slavery was abolished. The Railroad became more dubious when they started smuggling advanced androids from Boston to places in Canada. If the Mirelurks were cleared out the Railroad could reclaim a base here in the Peg. The Museum of Human Rights would make an appropriate base given their original mission. When these Synths made their escape they were so lifelike no one could tell the difference between them and regular humans. The Synths assimilated into civilization seamlessly. There was no paranoia like there was in Boston. But then the Institute wasn't trying to replace humans with Synths here in Canada. There was no law enforcement outside the settlements. Still, if an R.C.M.P uniform could be found, would it be possible to bring them back?

The two vaultdwellers made their way to the Legislature ruins. There Supermutants made their presence known. The Supermutants were created in a lab using the FEV or Forced Evolution Virus. The objective was to create better soldiers. The Forced Evolution Virus made the soldiers bigger, stronger, tougher, and dumber. Their primal aggression made them hard to control. Their military training made it possible for them to group up and organize. The process however made them sterile. To make more they had to capture prisoners and turn them into supermutants. Those who were lucky enough not to be turned into supermutants were sold as slaves or were eaten later.

Mark and Devon kept their weapons ready. Supermutants were a handful. They even infected dogs with the FEV to make them monstrous hounds. They checked their ammo.

"Don't have enough for an all out firefight." Mark said.

"Bring them on. Our bats will knock them dead!" Devon said. He was right. An aluminum bat with a heavy chain wrapped around the business end, held together with railroad spikes made it a heavy enough weapon. Not as heavy as a sledge hammer but close enough. They made it to the parrimeter when a mutant hound howled. Mark took out the ten millimeter pistol. He saved his ammo. The hound was taken down but the compound was on alert. There were a few coming out with boards. Those were easy to take down. But then there was a beeping sound. It was a supermutant with a mini nuke. He as holding it like a football. A suicide bomber. There was only one way to deal with them. Target the arm holding the bomb. Mark took careful aim and waited.

"Take the shot! Hurry!" Devon screamed. He was panicked. Mark counted to ten then squeezed the trigger. The bullet few and hit the upper shoulder. It was enough to make the supermutant drop the bomb. The result was a mushroom cloud that wiped out most of the supremutants running into battle. There was nothing to do but move in and clean up. They scavenged what ammo they could find and made their way inside. It was more of the same. Devon and Mark brought most of them down until they ran out of ammo. Their bats made quick work of most but the toughest one took his post at the highest part of the ruins. The collapsed dome. They had to take cover. This one had a rocket launcher. He was laughing and shouting out "Die! Die!".

Mark checked his pockets. He found a grenade and kissed it. He pulled the pin, counted to five and rolled it. The explosion crippled the big supermutant's leg. He wasn't going anywhere. "You bastard! I'll rip you apart and wear your bones around my neck!" the supermutant roared!

Devon went back to search the other bodies. He found a thirty eight pistol and ammo. He came back and took aim. By then the supermutant ran out of rockets and pulled out a home made pistol. Mark took out the forty-four revolver. The snub barrel would not make for an accurate firearm but he needed all he had for this fight. Six shot rang out. The beast took all six and was breathing heavily. Devon emptied all his thirty eight clips into the beast. The beast fell. They walked in to see a man in a cage. They bashed the lock and freed the guy. He was of African descent. He was in overalls made of Brahmin hide. Brahmin were mutated cattle. They grew two heads. Otherwise they behaved like regular cattle. People farmed them for livestock. Merchants used them to carry their stock. Many would take trails from settlement to settlement in caravans. Many made a living as a caravan guard. The prisoner thanked them for their help.

"We're on our way to Osbourne Village. Come with us and we'll help you get on your feet." Mark said.

"Oh! Thank you! You have no idea what these monsters had in store for me. So are you caravan guards?" the prisoner asked.

"No, not yet. Just a couple of survivors looking to make a living. Just like everyone else." Devon replied.

"We're on our way to finish a job, retrieving a lost relic. How about you? What's your story?" Mark asked.

"I was looking through archives. I heard of a group in Boston calling themselves the Minutemen. A militia. Ready for battle in under a minute. I wanted to start something like that here." the prisoner replied.

"Have you found anything?" Devon asked.

"I did. Sometime before the war someone did try and start a militia, and failed. It was called the Prarrie Rifles. He couldn't live with himself and committed suicide soon after. Used a razor blade to do himself in." the prisoner replied.

"That sucks. The Prarries could use something like that. Since the RCMP are gone." Mark said encouragingly.

"Who are they?" the prisoner asked.

"You're not from around here are you? Royal Canadian Mounted Police. They would patrol the smaller rural areas. Big cities had their own plice force. Outside the big cities you had the RCMP. Mounties they were more commonly called." Mark replied.

"I found this. I'd keep it but I don't like the insignia. Looks like a racist mark." the prisoner said handing out a service rifle. It had a dark paintjob. The insignia was of the Little Black Devils.

"You're definitely not from around here. The Little Black Devils were military. They were a regiment of the Canadian armed Forces. This little black devil will serve you well." Mark replied.

"So where does that name come from?" the prisoner asked.

"They were given their nicknames from thier enemies before the great war. They fought in every world war ever since. They became a militia. The 90th Winnipeg Battalion of Rifles." Mark replied.

"They were a Battalion?! So this was one of their service rifles?" the prisoner asked.

"Looks like. I do have a modification for it to make it more useful." Mark offered.

"And what's that? The modification?" The prisoner asked.

Mark pulled out a large bayonette and attached it. "There you go. A bayonette. That way if you run out of ammo you can still stab and slash with it." Mark said handing it over.

"If I start a millita here with this rifle, would I have to name it the Little Black Devils?" the prisoner asked.

"No. You can call it the Peg Rifles. It's close enough. It's not the Minutemen but I'm sure no one will mind." Mark replied.

"The Peg? Where is that?" the prisoner asked.

"We're in the Peg. This it the Peg's Legislature. Before the war this was where the city's lawmakers met. The whole city was governed from the offices here. Now it's a heap of rubble. Welcome to the Peg. Where are you from?"

"I'm from Ronto. I thought we were above slavery but when I got captured by those supermutants I didn't know were we were going or what was happening." the prisoner replied.

"I'm Mark. This is Devon. We're a couple of guns for hire. We're close enough to Osborne Villige. Once you're rested up you can decide where to go from there." Mark replied.

"I'm Harvey Blake. A scholar from Ronto. I don't know about the Peg Rifles. I like the Prarie Rifles better. I think one of you two should lead the Prarie Rifles. I'm not a fighter. I can look into archives and get information. I'm what many would call a scribe." Harvey said.

"The Brotherhood trains their scribes to fight. If you can help me find where they are I'm sure you can get in." Devon suggested.

"I know all about the Brotherhood of Steel. They have a reputation. They're all about technology. Their main mission is to look for dangerous technology and keep it away from the wrong hands. Those are some big robots they have there! And those laser rifles? Man! I'd like to get my hand on one of those!" Harvey said.

"Most of those big robots are actually suits of power armor. Soldiers go through special training before they could climb into one. Our job is almost done. Come on. We'll get you back on your feet. The we'll decide if we're bringing back the Prarrie Rifles. Although we'll most likely be called the Little Black Devils anyway." Mark said.

"So long as it has nothing to do with race." Harvey said. The trio made their way back to the Osborne Village.

Their stop was at a building once called the Gas Station Theatre. Beside it was an appartment complex but the only part that was intact was the underground parking. The only way in or out was a stairwell. People kept sleeping bags and bedrolls in one section. In the theatre there was a merchant who ran a general supply store. She maintained a stall and a somewhat clean appearance. She was a ghoul. Parts of her flesh were rotting but she still had her thoughts and feelings. She could still hold down a job running a general store. Mark, Devon and Harvey sat at a table, resting.

"Hey, boys. Did you get that relic?" She asked.

'We sure did. Ran into a Molebeaver nest." Mark replied.

"Did you roast some at least. I'll pay of course." The ghoul asked. Mark handed a bag over. The ghoul merchant took out a bag of caps and handed it over to Mark.

"Pleasure doing business with you. So who's the new guy?" she asked.

"Harvey this is Gail. Gail this is Harvey. We just rescued him from the Legislature." Devon replied.

"Those supermutants finally gone?! That's great news. We can expand across the river now. You'll have to talk to Butch at the Safeway. He'll pay for the cleanup job you did. So where are you from Harvey?" Gail asked.

"I'm from Ronto. Forgive for asking but.. what are you?" Harvey asked. Gail waved it off.

"I'm a ghoul. I used to be just like you, a human. But I was out and about when the bombs fell. Many of us mutated. The radiation kept us alive for centuries. We have very little memroies of way back then. The radiation keeps us alive still. Many of us have turned ferral. It's common for you smoothskins to hit the ground running at the sight of a ghoul. Just remember, if it starts hissing and attacking you, kill it. If it can still talk and be civil, then be civil back. Common sense." Gail replied.

"Smoothskins? What are those?" Harvey asked.

"It's what they call humans. Our skin is still smooth." Mark replied.

"So you're helping him get back on his feet? Good. Anything exciting goin on?" Gail asked.

"We're trying to decide weather to bring back the Little Black Devils, or the Prarrie Rifles." Mark replied.

"The Little Black Devils of course. I remember them. Good soldiers they were. Known for wearng dark clothing in war. They even had a lattin motto." Gail replied.

"What lattin motto was that?" Harvey asked.

"Hosti Acie Nominati. Named by the enemy in battle." Gail replied.

"Named by the enemy? How did that come about?" Harvey asked.

"This was way before the great war. There was a rebellion here in Canada. The Red River Rebellion. The Prime Minister at the time was a drunk named John A. Macdonald. He wanted to build the Transcanada Railway. But most of the settlers had issues. So they started a rebellion led by Luis Riel. The British sent forces to capture Riel at the battle of Batoche. One captured rebel gave them the nickname. And it stuck." Gail replied.

"Were any of them actually black?" Harvey asked.

"Hard to say. They got that name because they wore dark green in battle. So if they were seen they would look black." Gail replied.

"So what happened to Luis Riel?" Harvey asked.

"He was captured, tried for treason and was hanged. These boys were hired to retrieve a relic from that era which was burried here in the Peg. What was that?" Gail asked.

"Luis Riel's robe. It's in a museum at the Safeway station. We're just resting here for a bit then we'll collect our pay. You can come with us or look for work here. You could sell that rifle to the currator of the museum. I wouldn't. It's too good of a piece." Devon said.

"I still say you should have it. It's not for me. I don't like fighting. But if you want to bring back the Black Devils, by all means. Just make sure it's not a racial thing." Harvy said. Devon took the rifle.

"Thanks. I owe you one! And that's Little Black Devils. Also known as the Peg Rifles. That's more Mark's thing. I'll be searching for the Brotherhood. Hard not to resist their weapons and power armor." Devon replied. Devon handed Mark the rifle. Mark held it in revearance.

"Good luck General. You'll need it." Gail said.

"General?" Mark asked.

"The head of any Militia is given the title of General. It looks like you are the General of the Little Black Devils. I know the perfect place to start." Gail offered.

"Where is that?" Mark asked.

"The CBC building on Portage. It's close to the Portage Place settlement. I'll bet you can get a bounty there for clearing the place out. And find a good DJ. It'll give us something to listen to on the radio." Gail suggested.

"I'll need a flag of some sort." Mark said.

"Already got that covered. I know a few merchants who have old army gear for sale. Any suit of military fatigues will do. As for your flag, use a Canadian flag. The Peg Rifles fought for Canada many times. Including that war with U.S. You know the rest." Gail replied.

"That I do. We haven't heard the last of it yet." Mark replied.

"So what's our next move, General?" Harvey asked.

"Rest up. We'll help you gear up and we start the liberation of the CBC building." Mark replied. After a short rest they made their way to a museum across the street. It was in the Safeway building. A old man in a sweater vest and slacks stood up to greet them.

"You have the uniform?! I didn't think you'd find it. Guess I owe you some caps." He said. He put the uniform on a maniquin and gave Devon a bag of caps. "Who's the new guy?" he asked.

"I'm Harvey Blake. A scholar from Ronto." Harvey replied.

"A fellow scholar. What are you studying?" The old man asked.

"I'm researching the Prarrie Rifles. Hoping to start a militia, much like the Minutemen in Boston." Harvey replied.

"Now those were some good old boys. Ready for battle in under a minute! Those were true Americans! Not like the so-called soldiers here in Canada. They lost the war, and the country. What does that tell you?" the old man said.

"The Americans were desperate for resources. So we got robbed." Mark replied.

"Nothing beats American enguinuity! They had power armor, laser rifles, and bigger guns! The Canadians were weak. If they were fierce fighters as you claim them to be, they would have won the war. Instead America took over! I'm so glad to be part of the U.S of A." The old man preached.

"Can I shoot him?" Mark asked.

"What can you tell me of the Little Black Devils?" Harvey asked.

"The 90th Batallion? They were a huge pain in the ass! They put up quite a fight! But they lost! They have allot of history here in the Peg. But I'm not interested in Canadian history. I'm all about the U.S.A and their accomplishments. But If I want customers in this museum and antique shop I have to acomidate the Canadians. I wish they would drop the Maple Leaf and embrace the Stars and Stripes! It's better for everyone!" the old man said.

"I'm going to go talk to Butch. The Legislature is clear. No sign of the Golden Boy. It's been looted I figure." Mark said.

"They can have that child or whatever! I'm here to teach real history. The history of the U.S of A." the old man said. Mark left for Butch's office. Butch was at his desk. For a settlement mayor he didn't look the part. He wore a greaser jacket and jeans. But he kept the people safe and ran the place like any mayor would. His hair was grey with age but he didn't mind.

"Mark! What's the word?" Buch asked.

"Legislature is clear. The Supermutants are dead." Mark replied.

"Nice! I owe you a big bag of caps for that! No sign of the Golden Boy?" Butch asked.

"Nope. I did find a nice relic. Wonder if you know anything about a military regiment. They're known as the Little Black Devils?" Mark asked.

"They have a monument on Vimy Park. The Peg Rifles they're known as. The Little Black Devils is just a nicname. You found something?" Butch asked. Mark showed him the rifle.

"Well I'll be! The Little Black Devil service rifle! I'll repair it. I got spare parts lying around. Hosti Acie Nominati. Yep that's the real thing alright." Butch said before gathering his supplies. "There's a gathering of old veterans in Vimy Park. There's only three left. Show this to them and you'll get some stories to tell. If you plan on bringing back the Little Black Devils make sure they get on board. They'll whip your recruits into shape."

"I'll keep that in mind. How would you feel about taking Canada back? Making it it's own country again?" Mark asked.

"I'm all for it. The Little Black Devils should be the ones to do it. Sure they'll be a civilian millita like the Minutemen in Boston. But you have to start somewhere." Butch replied. After doing some major repairs the Little Black Devil service rifle was ready for battle. Butch only charges fifty caps for the parts.

"Thanks. Any other jobs that need to be done?" Mark asked.

"Not right now. But I'll keep you in mind if something comes up." Butch replied. Then a gunshot rang out. Harvey was laying dead on the floor. The museum currator had a pistol in his hand yelling "Damn commie! He was a spy! He's here to spread communist propaganda and lies about our great nation!"

"You sure he was a communist? He could have been a Railroad agent." Mark said.

"If he was a railroad agent I would have shot him!" Devon replied.

"He's a communist! The Railroad smuggled slaves out here to free them. Sure we were once racist against the negros. We kept them as slaves. But we chose to wise up and set them free. We even let them enlist. That turned the tide in the civil war. Once trained they were more than capable fighters. But saying that the government is putting poison in the air to kill all the surivors! All for more land! That's a communist plot right there." the old man said.

"Are the Brotherhood still on the hunt for Railroad agents?" Mark asked.

"They are. They don't have the numbers needed to go hunting for the Railroad." Devon replied.

"No matter. I have my next mission. Liberate the CBC building." Mark said.

"A true test of your skills as a soldier. You'll need this." The old man said giving Mark a lunchbox with a switch. Mark had to ask "What's this?"

"A bottlecap mine. If it's doesn't kill a ferral ghoul it'll cripple him!" the old man replied. This was the one thing Mark was hoping to find. A few more would have been better. But he was stuck. He slung his Little Black Devil service rifle and started. Devon ran to catch up with him. "I'm coming with you."

"Thanks buddy. Once we get that transmiter working we'll have communications throughout the praries." Mark replied.

They made it to the CBC building. Caravan guards reported ghouls in the building. Mark got his pistol ready. He had more ammo for it. Devon readied his pistol. They had more ten millimeter pistol ammo. Devon ran in all guns blazing. Mark took another approach. He snuck in and sniped. Many ghouls would play dead. They'd rise up when someone was nearby. Mark shot every corpse. The sneak attack made sure the dead stay dead. They went to differernt floors but got the job done at the same time. Mark needed fewer stimpacks. The building was almost clear. There was only the basement to go. That's where the generators where. Once they met up they searched the areas. They found ammo for thier rifles. Mark found junk he could use for his crafting. He then found something that was odd. It looked like a lazer rifle but it had the stock of a musket, and a hand crank above the trigger. It was held by a corpse in a duster and stormchaser's hat. The body also had a few cells. Mark looted the body and also found a holotape. Being a vaultdweller he was given a Pipboy at the age of ten. All vaultdwellers got one. It was a rite of passage. The Pipboy was a wrist mounted computer. It had a radio, a light, a holotape player, and a Geiger counter. It even had a plug to open other VaultTech vaults. Mark played the holotape.

"If anyone is listening to this, please hear me out. I am Samuel Gaines. I was to be a founding member of the Minutemen of Canada. But the ghouls here were too much for me. I thought I could free this place and set up communications throughout the prarries. Then I would honor the Minutemen of Boston by carrying on their mission here in the Peg. But I made a fatal mistake. There is a glowing one here. Not only tougher than the rest, it was more radioactive. It reanimated the ghouls I previously put down. I had to run but couldn't make it. I'm not sure if it's the radiation or the claws. Either way I'm done for. I can only warn you of the gowing one in the basement. I beg that you keep the dream of the Minutemen alive. It's up to you to take the torch if you see fit to do so. The Peg, in fact all of Canada deserves better. And this is the best way I know how. I know how it looks. Another meddling American. Please believe me. It's not about he flag. It's about the survivors..." the recording said before it was cut off. Mark held up is Little Black Devil rifle. He then knelt over the body.

"I'm sorry to do this to you. I know what you're trying to do. I will be taking the torch, but under my own banner. There won't be a Minutemen Canada. Instead it'll be the Peg Rifles. The Little Black Devils. Hosti Aceii Nominati." Mark and Devon stood and saluted.

"I'm sure he'll understand." Devon said.

"I hope he does. I don't want such good material to go to waste. Besides, we now know there is a glowing one here. Time to put the bomb to good use." Mark said.

They made it to the basement. The Glowing one was in full view. Devon was about to start shooting when Devon held him back.

"Wait. I have a better approach. Let me sneak ahead. I'll plat the mine, sneak back and take the first shot. Then we'll give it all we got." Mark suggested. Devon nodded. Mark snuck in half way, planted the bottlecap mine, and snuck back. He got out his Little Black Devil service rifle and took aim. It hit true. The glowing one hissed and ran toward Mark. The bottlecap mine went off. The Glowing one was crawling. It's lower half was crippled. Mark gave it a headshot. Devon filled the body with lead. Both their Gieger counters were ticking. Mark found the main curcuit breaker. He threw the switch. The generators groaned and came to life. Lights came on. They made their way to the main studio. Mark found the controls and set the frequency. Devon searched through the rest of the offices. He came back with a stack of holotapes. The holotapes had labels like Rock the Casba, Don't Answer Me, and Africa. Mark sat down on the chair next to a microphone and started his speech.

"This is Mark Jacobs, General of the Peg Rfiles, also known as the Little Black Devils. I am happy to report to you all across the prarries that my commarade and I have just liberated the CBC building and will be looking for a radio DJ to pay whatever songs that are available and to report on whatever news fit to air. I can't do the job myself as I'll be out there looking after the settlements and recruiting for the Peg Rifles. I'll be building things from the ground up so please be patient. But once the Peg Rifles are on their feet we will be out across the prarries taking back the country. I will be listening though and so will everybody else. I'll be holding down the fort. The Peg Rifles or the Little Black Devils if that name is any more familiar, will be making a comeback soon. For now here's the Clash Rocking the Casba." Mark said before loading the holotape and pressing play. The song travelled the airwaves and was heard by radios all over the Peg and beyond. It was then that a train was loaded and ready to move. It was a freight train with armored passenger cars. The outside was metel grey. On it was the flag of the Brotherhood of Steel. Three gears behind an upright sword. The Brotherhood of Steel was moving in. A few soldiers in power armor jumped from the train and landed near the CBC building. One suit was more decorated than the rest. This was the Paladin. A high ranking officer in the Brotherhood. Paladins lead the troops in battle. The other suits were knights. Lower in rank. They entered the building. Mark and Devon were startled at first. They tought they were under attack. But when the Paladin made an entrance she issued the command "At ease soldiers. We're here to talk." It was a woman's voice. The Paladin's power armor opened up at the back. The Paladin climbed out and walked out. She was in a suit of field armor. She was just as imposing outside of her power armor as she was in it.

"I'm Paladin Gracie of the Brotherhood of Steel. We got your transmission and came in to help out. I have to say I am impressed. My scribes had to do some digging to find data on the Little Black Devils. As a Canadian I think it's good you're bringing them back. They were a tough group of soldiers who fought in every world war. As a Brotherhood Paladin I hope we can at least work together. Or mission is to safeguard all of mankind from dangerous technology. In Boston it was the Institute replacing mankind with Synths. Before that it was the Enclave trying to conquer the country. There's only a small garrison here. All we have is in our train. We don't need anything else. Just a port in the storm. We'll give you the Three-Dog deal. You let us station here, we'll protect the place. We build a bunker here and we'll keep the station safe and free. You can have whatever DJ you want. What do you say?" Gracie asked.

"Who's Three-Dog?" Devon asked.

"Three-Dog? He's the DJ in Washington DC. The Capital Wasteland. Galaxy News Radio. We even have copies of his show and songs we can provide. Just play them durring a time slot and that will keep the listeners entertained." Gracie replied.

"Canadians in the Brotherhood? I thought the Brotherhood was an American organization." Mark asked.

"We are. But after the war the Brotherhood recognized how valuable we were. Our elder will be the first to say that though we are American in origin, we are working for all mankind. We are beyond flags and boaders. Don't let the preachers and the propaganda fool you. You can have your campaign to take back Canada if you want. It doesn't matter to us. All that matters is that we safeguard anything dangerous like weapons of mass destruction, or anything that will lead humanity into anhilation." Gracie replied.

"We have a deal. This is Devon. He wants to recruit in the Brotherhood." Mark said as they shook hands to seal the deal.

"We're not recruiting yet. But if he can prove himself exceptional I can consider a place for him. You would make a perfect scribe." Gracie replied.

"I prefer to walk the parries helping out the little guys. Besides we just han an encounter with a kook. One of our elders shot him thinking he was a communist. I believe he could have been Railroad." Mark said.

"The Railroad? Not surprised they'd have their presence here. The railroad smuggles advanced androids out of the Commonwealth and into parts of Canada. They think these androids are alive. Human enough to assimilate into society. But they are dangerous. The Institute placed Synths in tactical positions to control the commonwealth. They pull the strings from the shadows. The Railroad slip in and out of the shadows like they belong in it. If we had the numbers we'd wipe them off the map." Gracie replied.

"How about you go to Portage Place and send word there? I'll need to stay here and hold the fort." Mark asked Devon. Devon sighed "Fine, I'll go. But I want the next laser weapon!" Devon replied.

"It's yours buddy." Mark agreed.

"Laser weapon?" Gracie asked. Mark produced his Laser weapon. "That's a Laser Musket! Primmative design but it packs a punch from what I hear. I thought this was only held by the Minutemen." Gracie commented.

"I found it on a corpse. The poor guy wanted to start a Canadian chapter of the Minutemen. The kook we found was trying to start the Prarrie Rifles. Now here I am trying to start the Peg Rifles. Good luck buddy!" Mark said as Devon began to depart.

"I have a scribe that would love to update that. So what kind of build are you thinking for that?" Gracie asked.

"Something like a sniper rifle." Devon replied.

Devon made a short trip to Portage Place settlement. The building was intact but the bridges that connected it to various locations were destroyed. Now those bridge doors are for guard posts. Mark and Devon did some work here in the past so getting in was no problem. When Devon reached the fountian the mayor, a blonde woman in a dirty business suit came to greet him.

"Where's your partner? Normally you're the dynamic duo." the mayor asked.

"He's holding down the CBC building. We just finished clearing it out." Devon replied.

"That's great news! I had a bounty set up for that. I'll go get your payment. Is there anything else?" the mayor asked.

"You know of anyone who wants to be a dj?" Devon asked.

"I have just the people. One to do the mic work, and one to do the organization. I'll send them over. Come into my office. I'll get your bounty ready." the mayor offered. Devon followed the mayor into her office. It was down a hall behind the food court. She opened a file cabinet and pulled out a small bag. She gave it to Devon. "Your payment. You have no idea how many lives you just saved! Makes my job a hell of allot easier."

"Oh, I almost forgot. Mark will be starting his own company. He's bringing back the Little Black Devils. If you know of anyone who wants to recruit, Mark will let you know once he has found a base." Devon said.

"The Little Black Devils? You mean the Peg Rifles! Have him come here and do a job for me. I'll direct him to an iconic location." the mayor offered.

"Thanks. I'll let him know." Devon replied. He sat on a bench when a group of settlers walked to him. "Are you looking for a dj?" one asked. Devon nodded.

"Yep. The station is nearby. The Brotherhood of Steel is providing security. What's the story with you guys?" Devon asked.

"We heard that someone is bringing back the Little Black Devils. We want in!" one settler replied.

"Alright. Let's move out." Devon said. Everyone was ready in minutes. The trip was short but when they got there Mark was waiting. The dj, an aboriginal with short hair walked up to introduce himself. "I'm Jarred Yellowfeather. I'll be your dj. This is Wendy Chong. She'll keep things organized while you're away." Jarred said formally.

"I'm Mark Jacobs. General of the Peg Rifles. Who are these guys?" Mark asked.

"We're your new recruits! We heard what you were doing and we want in." The settler replied.

"I don't have a base yet so things will be rough for a while." Mark said.

"We don't mind. The mayor has a job for you. She'll send you to an iconic location as soon as your done here." the settler replies.

"Is that so? Alright, no rest for the wicked. So what's the job?" Mark asked.

"Portage and Main. The underground settlement has been taken over by raiders. Clear those out and you'll have your base there." the settler replied.

"Portage and Main? Talk about a tactical nightmare! Ok, get out your guns. We're in for a firefight!" Mark said. The settlers had hunting rifles out. Each with full stock and scopes.

"A sniper squad. I love it! Ok Once we clear the area we raid the bodies and take what we can use. We'll be stockpiling until we can find a better base. For now let's move out!" Mark said.

"Good luck buddy!" Devon said.

"Take care!" Mark replied. They tapped fists and loaded their guns.

The militia squad moved to Portage and Main. Most of the entrances were blocked by rubble. One member went up to Mark. "Sir! Do we have any cool sayings? Like a motto? Or something like that?"

"Hosti Aceii Nominati. Named by the Enemy in Battle." Mark replied.

"Named by the Enemy? I don't get it!" the settler asked.

"The regiment was given the nicname Little Black Devils by an enemy. The nicname stuck. So the regiment took pride in that nicname. Thus we were named by the enemy in battle." Mark replied.

"Hosti Aceii Nominati. Makes sense." another settler concluded.

"Take pride in the nickname boys. We'll be fighting like devils. With those rifles I'll say only this, aim slow. Percise and accurate shots will not only save ammo, it'll do the job faster. When the bullets fly, get to cover. You guys don't have any armor on. Raiders will not surrender. They'll kill you all on sight. Kill them before they get a chance." Mark said.

"Just like hunting gophers?" a settler asked.

"Aim for the head and they'll go down. Like hunting gophers." Mark said.

The trip there was surprisingly quiet. Most of the buildings were in heaps making some roads impassible. Mark gave the command to halt. "Use your scopes. See what's ahead, then fire at will Spread out." Mark instructed. The squad spread appart and looked around through their scopes.

It took a minute but when the shots rang out, raiders fell dead. The raiders came charging in. But the militia had the advantage of having longer range. The guards were all shot dead.

"Let me guess, hunters?" mark asked.

"Yes sir. How'd you guess?" a settler asked.

"Nice shooting, all of you. Move in, but don't enter. We're raiding the bodies." Mark said. The squad took the guns and ammo they could find. They even looted the armor the raiders were wearing. Mostly leather and scrap metal. There were two doors to the underground mall. Both were collapsed. That left the inside enterances. Two banks and a hotel. The closest was a bank. The squad entered the building. Bullets few. More raiers. Mark brought a few down with his Little Black Devil rifle. The rest came in guns blazing. After the building was cleared out they found their way to the underground. Stopping for looting and rest. They cleared the undergound mall. "We did it! The place is ours!" a settler yelled!

"Not yet!" Mark said "There's still other buildings to secure."

"Are we going to settle here?" Another settler asked.

"We'll make an outpost here. The mayor wanted us here to secure a trade route. Bad news, there are two more buildings to clear. Good news, afterwards we'll have plenty of room to expand." Mark said. This was about to be a long day. By then the squad was fully decked out on raider armor and was loading up their thirty-threes. Thirty-three ammo was the most they could find. They made thier way to the second bank. The battle was even more brutal. The worst was the hotel. The raider boss was running the corner from his hotel room. By the time the squad made it to the raider boss they raided allot of bodies. The final battle was a brutal one. Many where wounded. But Mark tossed a grenade. That brought the raider boss down. Mark finished he raider boss with a lazer blast. He cranked the Lazer musket and only one shot came out. That shot turned the raider boss into an ash pile. "Rest up folks. We'll need more settlers to spread out here." Mark said before dropping himself. When he awoke he was on a bedroll in the center of the underground outpost.

"How long was I out?" Mark asked.

"Long enough for reinforcements to arrive. We had a bunch of caravan guards come in looking for a place to stay. We have plenty of room. We rescued a bunch of prisoners destined for a slave camp. We even have the location of that slave camp." the lead settler reported.

"Good. We'll need all the manpower and supplies we can get. I'll go to the slave camp myself. You guys have allot on your plate keeping this area secure." Mark replied.

"Don't worry about us General. We have everything under control. May I suggest you report to Portage Place? You're reward is ready." The lead settler suggested.

"Very good. I appoint you head of the outpost here. You're in charge while I'm away. Your men look up to you. Keep it that way." Mark said.

"Thank you sir!" the lead settler saluted. Mark saluted back and said "You have your duties. Dismissed."