The Capital Wasteland, February 7, 2290, 3:08pm.

The main Brotherhood outfit rendezvoused with their scout unit and set up shop. The radio truck had stopped way further back on the highway as the synths were instructed; Director Galeone was no slouch at conducting war: radio interceptions and intel theft were commonplace back before the bombs fell, and he wasn't going to take risks with any of the Institute's frequencies.

Leaving the truck behind though, meant the members of The Brotherhood had to carry the essential pieces for the relay tower themselves.

"Man, these are heavier than they look," Ash complained.

He looked over at Abby, who was carrying nothing of note. "Hey, why aren't you carrying anything? What, just let the goons in power armor-"

"I am carrying something. And if we're suddenly ambushed out here, the person carrying the relay chip should be able to scramble at a moment's notice... hmm... Right, here's good," Abby ordered with a clear voice.

Everyone carrying a piece of the relay tower set down their equipment and started unfolding, expanding, and setting up the pieces according to instruction. It wasn't awfully tall, but when Abby inserted the relay chip into the main breaker, the fragile-looking, twenty-foot tower began to whir with a low buzz.

"That should do it," Abby remarked. "Now we wait for HQ to-"

Relays fired all across the highway, platoons of synths all of a sudden made the place less lonely. Each squad relayed in carrying a different industrial part to further build the tower and make its spawn signal more reliable and less scattered. Others still, relayed in with barricades to set down along the road to secure it.

They sure do know how to conquer, Abby thought as she sat down on a nearby box and started on a can of Instamash. The rest of the advance party did the same and took a breather. They had been on the march for more than a week on County Road, and their trip was slowed somewhat by the occasional skirmish with ferals, muties, or the occasional displaced raider gang. The lattermost was the most threatening, but a few synth relay grenades (despite their maddening inaccuracy) were usually enough to scare them off.

As Abby ate, she entertained herself by watching the synths work on the tower, from a tent set up for the Brotherhood members (how kind of them) .

Just... how the hell did I get here; convinced to take point in an operation I didn't know the history behind, for a Director whose motives I couldn't pinpoint, backed by a Directorate I could toss a coin for to see if they were obeying or using him? Focus, Abby... Mom would smack me upside the head for being so pessimistic about every damn thing.

Brotherhood Bunker, December 4, 2289.

"Madeleine, work with Jesse to figure out how you're going to divide the scribes. Most of you will probably be going back and forth with Institute forces for recordings and whatever else."

"Yes, Elder".

The scribe walked out of the room, and Sarah continued dishing out assignments.

"Chuck, take quartermastery up; supplies all need to be stacked and orderly for all our divisions. Talk to our suppliers and handle payment. Find someone who can help you record all transactions."

"Roger."

Chuck walked out of the room to perform the task. Sarah then finally turned to Abby.

"Alright, I'm putting you in command of the First Infantry Division."

Abby, not looking to cause a scene and ruin the mood, nodded but stared disapprovingly at Sarah; a look that said ' We're talking later' .

"You all have your designations, don't slack off and help your comrades out. Dismissed."

The other leading figures of the organization walk out the room. Everyone but Abby and Sarah remain in the room.

"I'm no soldier, Sarah. Even less of a commander." Abby piped up. Her old training made it very clear that she would hold no positions of command.

"We're lacking manpower, really. We're just a splinter; even with a ton of defectors from the original Brotherhood, not nearly enough. Plus, your instincts are good, that goes a long way."

"Right."

"I was thinking of putting together members for the Pride, you know? We kind of need that elite unit again, for morale's sake."

"What stopped you?"

"The Capital doesn't have any significant military force governing it, not anymore at least. There's no need to go overboard to organize a vanguard squad. Especially when things are already as hectic as they are now."

"Right. So what's the actual reason you put me in direct command? I might be the highest ranking officer but I'm the newest one here. There are plenty you can trust with leading."

Sarah sighs and rubs her forehead.

"So I have an excuse to keep you here. I'm sure you'd run off at the last second and fake a disappearance or something."

"That maternal instinct of yours is a bit screwed, don't you think? Even if you didn't do anything, I'm sure the Institute would've tracked me and egged me on about it."

"This is a good opportunity for you to take responsibility. We can't just keep running and expecting something to change."

"Don't misread my intentions. Of course I want something better! Just not with these Institute assholes."

"So why become a regular merc employee with them? Why'd you help them take over Quincy?"

"I worked for them, not with . They don't seem like the type of people to give me a choice. Doesn't help that whenever I see them, they're always backed up by armed synths."

"You and your goddamn paranoia... I won't get pissed if you say you just wanted their money... Just don't make any more excuses, okay?"

Sarah walks out of the room, signalling the end of the discussion and leaving Abby to her thoughts.

What did she say back then? 'I always tell you to do your best, right? Even when you aren't sure you're gonna win, you have to do your best. That right?'

Abby sighed as she recalled the words of someone from long ago.

Just this once; maybe war is the best way to achieve progress. God, that was painful to even think about... But now's not the time for second guessing. I just have to do my part in making this as smooth as can be; keep casualties to a minimum, don't draw conflict out. Doing nothing at this point would just be irresponsible. If I'm wrong in joining the NEA's campaign... then I'll regret it later.

The Capital Wasteland, 2 hours later.

"Commander Darling , refreshments have been prepared at the designated refreshment tent," A skeletal Gen 1 told her. Abby had just been watching it prepare the refreshment tent with efficiency alongside the other synths, and watched as it looked over its work, realizing it was done, leading it to walk all the way to her to deliver the notification.

In truth, She was just bored. This campaign did not excite her, it didn't fill her eyes with opportunity-lust. She knew war, she knew what the consequences were, and no amount of futuristic gizmos and wonder-tech could convince her that it had changed one bit, no matter how much she was trying to convince herself otherwise.

As she got up to go see what refreshments the synths had prepared, the relay fired again. She had barely noticed that a full-blown satellite dish was sitting over the relay tower, which now doubled in size and allowed for much more precise teleportation. The relay fired again and again, about five times in total, at first fully-armored Gen 2 troopers, then a couple Coursers, then the entire Directorate accompanied by a waiting Elder Lyons.

"There it is, ladies and gentlemen. The fabled Capital Wasteland," Handy said, motioning to the skyline in the distance. The Directorate members looked more concerned with the conditions of the camp, while Sarah walked slowly with glossy eyes in the direction of what used to be Washington D.C.

"Massachusetts, Maine, and New Hampshire were just the beginning. You'll find enough scrap and technology in this city alone to create two NEAs. For one, returns on the clean water we can requisition from here can-"

Abby was standing at a distance, and her eyes went back and forth between the Director and Sarah. The latter was too emotional, it seemed, to pay attention to the capitalist lingo being sprung from Handy's mouth. Abby walked towards her Elder.

"Ad victoriam, commander," Handy tipped his hat with a courteous and charming smile, but Abby returned the greeting with minimal eye contact and posture, instead going straight to Sarah, who still looked awestruck and had a small fluttering smile on.

"Ad victoriam... " Sarah whispered.

"So." Abby takes notice of her emotional state. "What's up?"

Sarah took a deep breath. "Nothing it's... Just never thought I'd be home again."

"Hmm.."

Quick as that though, Sarah turned to face the other members of the Directorate. Dr. Curie and General Preston looked more at home in the surface world, but the other members retained the fish-out-of-water look they had back during the parade. "Look at 'em," Sarah nudged Abby, "They can't wait to get back into their air-conditioned paradise underground." The two chuckled a bit when a gust of wind pushed them a little further back than any person who would have grown up with it.

"I wouldn't worry, Elder, " Abby said with a dry chuckle, "If this goes well I think we're in charge of a new paradise. Right over that horizon." The two turned back and watched as the sun began to set.

"I hope so, Sentinel . All we have to do is take it."