As a giant robot revved to life and started to look up at the Prydwen, a firm hand landed on the future Director's shoulder.

"It's time to go sir."

The lone human wearing Institute armor looked back at the elite Courser X6-88, his face cold as usual. A gentle nod was all the man gave before he and the rest of the organic fighters relayed away to a safe distance.

The Upper Stands, Diamond City, 7:01pm

A woman sat with her legs dangling off the famous baseball stadium's walls, a frame of power armor beside her and a half-drunk bottle of Gwinnett Stout in hand.

"Thank God for Buddy..."

The stars were out and it was a peaceful night, not a care in the world; The Commonwealth was going to be a better place from now on.

"Commander of Lyons' Pride, huh..." The woman chuckled. "If anything, we're a long way from that 'law degree'."

Chuckling once more at the thought, she went for another swig of the cold beer when suddenly, something caught her attention.

"Huh?!"

A flash filled the sky and a guttural boom emanated shortly after. The woman looked around for the cause and her eyes could not miss the sight: a ball of fire falling over Boston Airport. Confusion was followed by sheer dread

"What the... oh shit."

"Hey, what do you see up there?" One of the city guards shouted to her. She couldn't answer; her knees began to buckle and her bottle of beer clanged down the bleachers.

All that followed was a tempest of dirt and small debris... and the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong.

1Knight_Wonder and Lemon_A1DE present:

The Future Everyone Wanted

Diamond District, September 17, 2289, 16 months after the Prydwen Incident.

"Nani shimasho ka?"

"No, I don't think it was a hydrogen leak ."

"Nani shimasho ka?"

She sighs and raises her hands in mock defeat.

"I guess you of all people would know the truth."

Abby handed over some caps and promptly left Takahashi's food stand. She stretched and walked over, past the loitering Gen 1 synths, to Diamond District's (renamed ever since the 'Reunification of Boston' campaign started by the joint Institute and Minutemen governing bodies) most reputable doomsayer, conveniently stationed outside Publick Occurrences and speaking to a prepubescent girl.

"Come on, Piper!"

"I am not about to let you operate the press after what you did last time."

"That was bad luck..."

"Pretty sure you're just bad luck."

"I don't wanna hear that from someone who got kidnapped by the Children of Atom and got kicked out of Diamond District in the same lifeti-"

The red trench coat-clad reporter put a hand over her little sister's noisy mouth.

"Stop making a scene! We get enough flak on a regular basis!"

"Ehem."

The Wright sisters turned to meet the source of the sound: a cross-armed mercenary and longtime friend/badass. Piper was the first to pipe up as she desperately tried to divert attention from the shouting match she was having.

"Heyyy, Abby. Finished interrogating poor Takahashi?"

"I'll try again tomorrow. What's new?"

Piper turned to her sister and pointed to an area behind her.

"Nat, would you be a dear and do your job?"

"Fine."

The girl huffed and stood up on her box, ready to deliver the gospel truth to the wicked masses.

Piper turned back to her friend and spoke more civilly, and more importantly, quietly. "Well, people are unresponsive as you would expect."

"I think ' scared' is more accurate. The people have gotten used to the clean water and the synthetic food that any idea of going back is..." Piper cringed a little at the thought and Abby gazed beside her, eyeing the Institute flag flying proudly beside the Publick. Piper didn't want it, and for the longest time the people didn't want it, but there it flew dominantly in the wind.

"I read your article from a year back," Abby said, still looking a little too spitefully at the flag. The Virtruvian Man used to be a symbol of science, of human knowledge evolving, but now it was a very real symbol of terror to any who dreamt of defacing it.

"Hmm?" Piper tried to get Abby's attention back since entering her little trance.

Abby responded without taking her eyes off the flag. "When your source told you the Vault Dweller, that "sole survivor", was the new Director... I thought immediately that you betrayed the Commonwealth. When you said the Institute could be a part of our future..."

"Abby... humanity-"

" Is the Commonwealth, I know... I just... never thought that symbol would ever inspire hope. Part of me wishes it didn't, then I would have a reason to rip those jumpsuits a new one." Abby took a deep breath to reel herself in. "I swear Piper, give me that interview and everyone will view the Institute for what it really is."

"What it was , Abby."

"You don't seriously think this benevolent bullshit is for the people of the Commonwealth, right?"

"What it was. " Piper leaned in closer and started to use a whisper tone. She was loud and boisterous but when it came to her friends, she knew damn well how to protect them. She put her hands on her dear friend's shoulders and shook them a little. "We live in the New England Alliance now. the Institute, the Minutemen, they're divisions now. Divisions of the only real ruling body we've had for over two centuries ." The reporter grit her teeth as she spoke. "Two centuries of waiting and you don't think the Commonwealth's earned a chance at justice without the guns?"

"Listen to yourself, you're one of them! One of your articles was proudly headlined 'Closing your eyes is easier than bumbling around in the dark.' Remember those days?"

"I'm not closing my eyes, Abby. I know what the Institute was, I lived in the horrors it created..." Piper stroked Abby's shoulder. The latter was still staring at the flag, but the contortions of her face and the stiffness of her body suggested she was getting more emotional. "I know the people they killed... I know the Brotherhood deserved a second chance. But whatever we've got goin' on behind the scenes, we can't let the public know they blew up good people." Piper looked a bit somber; above all she valued the releasing of the truth, but she wasn't just dealing with Mayor McDonough's disapproval anymore. She had to be more responsible. Abby finally looked away with a salty feeling in her mouth.

Piper handed over her newspaper for Abby to read. The headline stated boldly:

The Institute: Is It Still 'The' Institute?

Abby pondered for a moment and sifted through the content quickly. Her face was a little sour at the article's hopeful message, usually a far cry from Piper's old content, but strangely enough, hope and happiness fit the time they were living in.

"That aside..." Abby remarked, breaking the tension and hopefully the mood. "I was thinking of new ways to interrogate Takahashi; I have a feeling he can say more than just-"

Suddenly, a bottle hit the ground and shattered, stopping Abby's train of thought.

"Shut the hell up, you little bitch!"

"HEY!"

Abby and Piper reflexively turned to see Nat being approached by a boisterous drunk man. The vault dweller briskly walked and put herself between the man and Nat, a familiar stench filling her nose.

"Ugh... It's a bit early to be this hammered, don't you think?"

"Please tell her to shut up," the man, clearly in a stupor, said condescendingly and with a reckless wobble in stature and tone. "...no one cares about that boring Institute crap! The Brotherhood exploded- big deal!"

The man stepped forward but Abby put a hand on his chest and pushed him back firmly, setting the early-goer stumbling a few steps.

"Get your ass home. Don't make me sober you up."

"Or wha-"

Abby quickly swung her fist and connected flush to the man's jaw. Abby felt like she went straight through him; she definitely let off some steam with that one. The drunk suddenly fell flat on the latter-rain soil, knocked out. Piper took the initiative and the next step.

"Security!"

Nat came out of her little hiding spot and stepped back on her box. "Ugh... thanks Ms. Abby."

"No problem, Nat."

Two Diamond District Security guards came in and picked the man up, no questions asked, almost as if the Wright sisters being assaulted was a common occurrence.

Abby walked out of the Publick, tossing a cap Nat's way for the paper in her hand. "I'll see you guys around, I guess," she said.

"Take care, Blue-" Piper put her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock as she realized she slipped. Abby adapted quickly though, giving her a confused grin and walking up the ramp out of Diamond District.

Sanctuary Hills, September 17, 2289, 4:12pm

The trees are always green in Sanctuary Hills, everyone used to say, and they definitely weren't wrong. The synthetic trees and grass never wilted away, the old houses and scrap piles that passed for them were gone, reconstructed and renovated with beautiful upper floors, outfitted with luxuries for the NEA's elite. At the center of it all though, where it stood for over two-hundred years, was the home of Director-General "Handy" Galeone. Once a soldier before the Great War, who got his nickname for clearing a Chinese bunker with a flamethrower in one hand and a laser pistol in the other, like some sort of Mr. Handy.

He now rarely puts on his fatigues and armor; they lie neatly in a cabinet in his house. No, now he spends his days in front of a terminal, overlooking a map, or some other screen or hologram.

The sound of keys tapping echoed throughout the large chamber that was the second floor of the Director's old house. He was writing another automated message to the folks at The Castle: ingenious new technology that was allowed by the successfully installed satellite array the Institute retained in the sky allowed for effective communication over great distances. Of course, if ever those things broke down, no one could really go up there to fix it, space travel was a highly classified old world government project, way above Handy's former jurisdiction in the army.

"Heh... maybe next time," he thought aloud.

"What was that, love?"

"Hmm? Oh nothing honey."

Meanwhile, Cait was lounging about the common area in a clean blue dress and playing around with her husband's hat, given to him a while back by that Sentry bot they called Ironsides. It had a deep, dapper, and sleek look about it, a far cry from the faded article it once was. Handy's signature bright blue suit bore a similar tint, and Cait just loved running her fingernails along them.

zzZZzt zzZZzt

"Hehehe I love this stuff, why can't I get something made o' this?"

"They're not easy to come by, hon."

"They made some for you, didn't they? I think they can make an exception for the Director's darlin' gal."

"Mark VI Ballistic Weave isn't a material you just make . And if I were to commission a set, what kind of leader would I be?"

"Oi, don't gimme that. I seen ya scrounging in all those places we been to back then; where did all that scrap go?"

"Tinker Tom, God rest his soul, developed the initial prototypes with recycled ballistic fiber. Emphasis on recycled , had five levels of protection in his blueprints." Cait made mocking faces as he continued. "The Mark VI weave requires synthetic Institute-developed materials that are modified at the molecular level. I would have to divert all of Advanced Systems' efforts and resources for weeks to create a single jacket, and I already have a full outfit."

Cait pouted at his incredibly reasonable and detailed, very Institute-like response.

"Gosh I get it," she sighed. "I just wanted to-"

Handy raised an eyebrow as she trailed off and immediately realized what she meant. He put on a teasing tone and turned his chair toward her.

"Oh. I mean I can absolutely requisition the most complicated and tedious materials for the most tedious process of making armor the world has ever known as long as it's for my lovely wife, right?"

Cait pouted again, ever since his son passed away, her husband listened extensively to Father's old holotapes. He inadvertently acquired his accent and accidentally began combining it with the one always coming out of her. The result was this butchered but still somehow honey-smooth tone. Especially when he mocked her.

"You... really know how to tug on me heartstrings."

Handy turned back to his work. "I didn't do much at all, you just liked watching me change."

At that, Cait's jaw fell and she picked up a pillow from the couch she sat on. She strode with a vengeance towards Handy and threw his hat at him, but he caught it out of his peripheral vision. He didn't see the pillow coming from the other side, though.

"Agh! That was not fair."

"You don't get to call that after saying whatcha did!" Cait smiled sheepishly, bearing the feeling of having won this playful marital melee.

To her amusement though, Handy put on his hat (he always looked good in that hat) and took off the Pip-Boy on his arm, rubbing the spot it was on.

"If you want fair, hon, I'll give you fair." Handy took off his glasses and wedding ring and stood up. He was slender in frame, but his slim silhouette, trimmed off the edges by the harsh living conditions of the wasteland, hid muscles refined by years of warfighting. He rolled his lips, accentuating his one-of-a-kind handlebar mustache, and licked his lips in excitement.

"You'll just have to pay the wasteland's price... knock my hat off, and you got it."

Cait stared at her husband mockingly. "A hundred fights undefeated, love." the brawler woman cracked her knuckles and bent her neck left and right with audible clicks. "I'll knock your goddamn head off."

Suddenly, a notification on Handy's discarded Pip-Boy made it blink blue. Cait grumbled. She had been thwarted once again by the powers that be. Handy grinned and turned around, walking back to the device and tapping on it. Touchscreen, he thought. Such a good idea.

"Better luck next time, hon. Got business to attend to."

Cait let out an audible hmph before Handy tapped on his screen. A little flash was heard and Handy was enveloped in blue light for an instant before he vanished completely, leaving his wife shaking her head.

A familiar whir was heard in the SPB, the Settlement Protection Bureau, and Director Handy relayed in. He wasted no time and briskly walked to the screen-laden intel monitoring room. "What news?"

"We found them, Director."

"Details, Dr. Ayo. Gunners, raiders, spies?" The dapper Director pored over the screens as if in a hurry.

"The Brotherhood of Steel, sir."

Handy looked over his shoulder in disbelief. "The Brotherhood of Steel? No…" Handy turned to face the division head directly. "You're not telling me that 'optimistic glitch' intel was actually correct, are you?"

Dr. Justin Ayo looked down in slight embarrassment, it was him who shot down the notion of the long-dead Sarah Lyons being spotted somewhere in the Commonwealth, back when the jarring intel was first reported by a decrepit Gen 2 synth on patrol.

Handy spoke again. "You're absolutely sure it's Lyons?"

"I-I wouldn't make the same mistake twice, Director."

Handy glared at him, it was another case of Justin Ayo playing safe with his ego. Another ping went off on the Director's personal computer and he observed it for a moment before beginning to walk out. "Tell X5-33 and X6-88 to be ready for mobilization. I'm requested in Advanced Systems."

"Yes, Director."

Handy made briskly out of the SPB and past the courteous half-bows of passing synths and scientists to Advanced Systems. As he entered, the spritely Dr. Orman greeted him with a familiar greeting. "Good day, Director! You would not believe what we've got for you today."

Handy smiled somewhat dismissively, he's sure heard that before. Rosalind led him past the main hall towards the weapon testing range, where she dismissed two Gen 1 synths testing standard Institute rifles.

"So, we've been working on the terrestrial fusion rounds like you requested, but what we found was that they wouldn't fire properly from standard firearm receivers like we'd hoped. Too fast, too much recoil to the left, etc… These things," Rosalind picked up an Alien Blaster Round, a top secret asset procured by Handy himself in some lonesome cave. "They're just not meant to fire out of ballistic guns."

"Mhm.." Handy half-pretended to be interested, Advanced Systems was probably the most bored department of the Institute since there weren't too many systems they hadn't already advanced within the first six months of Handy becoming Director. They were used to working fast, and since materials were so freely acquired during these days of relative peace, they worked almost too fast.

"Anyway," Rosalind continued, "we did have a breakthrough with our 9mm variant. It still doesn't fire too well out of a standard 10mm pistol because well, it's a 9mm, but on our custom receiver we had some... interesting results."

"Like?"

"Increased bullet velocity, lower recoil, the fused energy in the ball-point seemed to make it... like an instant death button. It's mad accurate, almost too accurate."

A switch seemed to flip in Handy's brain. Well well well, a surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one, he thought to himself.

"I know you said we can't be mass-producing any new weapons, but this breakthrough was just too good that I..."

"Don't worry about it. This is just the progress we want."

Rosalind's eyes lit up. She stepped to her side and motioned towards a... white... safe box? "Ta-da!"

Handy afforded a smile but was visibly confused. Rosalind on the other hand, was giggling. "I'm sorry I don't quite..."

"Here." Rosalind grabbed Handy's Pip-Boy and went into developer mode. It required a voice activation and she held the wrist-mounted computer up for the Director to provide it. "Override: Delta Riser niner two niner." Rosalind imputed lines of code she memorized (because of course she did) and turned the computer back into standard mode.

"There we go! Tap on the gun icon right there."

Handy located the correct icon and pressed it. All of a sudden three lights on the box in front of him lit up, and a holographic model of the Director's signature pistol projected from the Pip-Boy. Handy looked over at Rosalind nervously, but she had a wide smile and motioned for him to continue.

Handy grabbed the hologram and the box in front of him vibrated almost violently. Handy flinched backward, but felt his right hand grip onto something solid. He looked down and saw Tommy Whispers' old pistol, the Deliverer, in his hands; long barrel, extended magazine, everything he remembered modifying it with, but with a sleek, glossy black exterior.

"It's an all-new model, we went for a mold of the Walther PPK/S instead of the PPK, and it's the only gun in the world that can fire our prototype 9mm f-Terrestrial properly. You'll find all your preferred modifications integrated and performance highly enhanced. And best of all, an integrated relay chip that transports it to this impenetrable safe-box at will."

Handy stared at the weapon in awe. Even the minor details like the engravings on the side of the gun were all-new: the Institute logo replaced the Walther logo, and the design specs were all correct. Handy looked at the printed text on the side of the firearm. "Rosalind Orman Institute AS, Exp. Model 19-A Cal. 9mm f-Ter." Handy unscrewed the silencer and pulled the priming handle forward. He felt the mechanisms give and pulled the top off to view the internals. "Very nice, very nice indeed… Now- How did you get the schematics of the PPK/S?"

"Well one of our scavenger teams picked up a deactivated model in a museum and brought it back to contribute to this project. As you can see it's a success."

"Yes, very good." Handy flipped the fine weapon and checked every angle of it. He understood why even a synth scavenger would not immediately dispose of such a beauty.

"It's currently under the designation Experiment 19-A as you've read. But the test team and I just call it God's Deliverance."

Handy looked up again, this time with a knowing grin. " God's Deliverance? Since when did the Institute dabble in religion?"

"I've been reading some books coming in from Harvard," Rosalind smiled sheepishly. "It's some mumbo jumbo sometimes but it's such an interesting part of history. Plus the name you know? Deliverer, Deliverance…" Rosalind made weighing motions with her hands.

Handy nodded slowly. "God's Deliverance... I like it." Handy reassembled the firearm and his look suddenly intensified. He turned his eyes down range and saw it ready for a little test run. He took a breath right as he pointed down range and dispatched the holographic targets before him with swiftness and ease. A new set of targets appeared, and some of them moved. They were dealt with almost as soon as the appeared, and so were the rest of the waves.

Clipclipclip- clipclip- clipclipclipcilp... Handy all of a sudden got a feel for how a PPK was supposed to fire as he finished the course and looked at the scoreboard as his run finished. Apparently, he already held the top spot on the course leaderboards, but his first place record was pushed down for an even newer first place record, set by him again just now. Handy looked a tad impressed, looking at the time comparisons and back at the gun. How's third place X6? He thought to himself with a grin.

"Thank you Dr Orman. It's a great gift." He said as he looked the weapon over in admiration once more.

"I'll continue the research like you wanted. This is just the first step, but it's a great one in your hands, Director."

Handy tipped his hat and pressed the icon on his Pip-Boy again, relaying the gun back into the box with a loud noise as he walked out of Advanced Systems. Innovation was rudimentary in the new Institute, what with everyone now focused on making practical ways of making life above ground better.

Handy walked out of the department to continue his rounds around the rest of the Institute. Things never looked brighter, and in no time since long before the bombs fell, was darkness ever so scarce.