It was weird traveling with The Wanderer. Usually, when the Pride was out on patrol or on a mission, there would be a fair amount of chatter in-between destinations. Though Vargas and Sarah were quick to clamp down on an abundance of unnecessary noise, they didn't mind a bit of conversation on the road. In fact, sometimes they'd even welcome it when they knew there wasn't a very large chance of being attacked.

With Michael present, it was different. Their trek from Fort Bannister to Megaton had been nearly completed in absolute silence, sans the sound of power armor meeting the ground. They hadn't been attacked, though they were certain that a few groups of raiders must have seen their little party. Raiders had no qualms attacking Brotherhood when high on Jet or Psycho, no matter how out-gunned they were.

The Wanderer, however, was a different story. Though he was a magnet for disaster, the shadow he cast terrified people more than that of the entire Brotherhood. On their way to Megaton, they passed several caravans, guarded by mercenaries, and even they gave The Wanderer, who was up at the front of the line, a wide berth. Even the vast amount of dangerous wildlife that infested the Wasteland seemed to avoid the man.

The silence was helped along by Colvin and Dusk's brief 'conversation' the previous night. Normally on long patrols there would be a good bit of competitive banter between the two of them.

Megaton could be seen in the distance. The small town had grown since the defeat of the Enclave and activation of the purifier. As water caravans had become commonplace among the Capital Wasteland, more people were able to settle down further away from the purifier without worrying about having fresh, clean water. Its walls were still haphazardly put together, but now they had catwalks that were used to guard the perimeter of the town. Though attacks on Megaton weren't nearly as common as they used to be, Lucas Simms ensured that they wouldn't grow complacent. After all, he knew better than most what happened to the last settlement that had grown complacent. Tenpenny Tower was the example he put forth every time his zealous protection of Megaton was questioned.

Early on in The Wanderer's life outside the Vault, he had defused the nuclear bomb at the center of Megaton and moved its uranium core to a safe location with the help of Gob, the resident Ghoul at the time. He had done so even after being offered a luxury suite in Tenpenny Tower by a man named Mister Burke. Burke nearly killed Simms, and would have were it not for The Wanderer's quick reflexes. Though Simms still had a phantom pain in his shoulder thanks to Burke's suppressed 10mm pistol, the well-dressed man was dead on the ground before getting a second shot off.

Afterwards, The Wanderer stormed to Tenpenny Tower to investigate. As he found out, Tenpenny Tower was inhabited by people who thought themselves better than 'wastelander trash' and as such kept said people as far away as possible. The Wanderer had run into a ghoul by the name of Roy Phillips, who, like many others, wished to be granted access to Tenpenny Tower. The Wanderer had blackmailed Allistair Tenpenny, the 'owner' of the tower, into letting Roy into the tower by giving the well-to-do man an ultimatum: Start letting people into the tower, or face the wrath of The Wanderer.

Though his legend was smaller at the time, he had already done a fair amount of good for the Capital Wasteland before getting to that point. As such, Allistair wisely agreed to the demands made of him. However, days later there were reports of the tower going dark over communications. The Wanderer investigated and found that the supposed 'peaceful' ghouls had killed all of the residents and moved in his 'gang'. This of course was a breach of the promise made to The Wanderer, a promise that stated Roy and his friends would not incite hostilities and, if they were on the receiving end, they would leave the tower and let The Wanderer handle it.

That was one of the first times the Capital Wasteland found out what happened when you broke a promise to The Wanderer. Nobody had been spared. He left a warning for Three Dog to broadcast: Stay away from the tower. Though there had been attempts to occupy the tower, all attempts had been met with an incredible amount of firepower directed at would-be inhabitants, courtesy of an oddly patriotic Mr. Gutsy, an incredibly large ghoul known to Underworld residents as 'Charon', and a psychotic woman last seen wearing a Naughty Nightwear gown.


Jericho was the first to spot The Wanderer and his party through the scope of his DKS-501 sniper rifle, as he was stationed on Watch duty that day. He alerted the people manning the gates to prepare for his arrival, as well as fetch Lucas Simms, as he wanted to be told the second The Wanderer came in vision of Megaton after hearing of his supposed miniature genocide carried out against Talon.

Though the Brotherhood were no strangers to Megaton, many of those in the party were surprised when the gates had started opening despite them not yet arriving at them yet. In their experiences, people had to be right at the gates for them to open up the town. At first they thought it might be coincidence, but as they didn't see anything else coming out or going in, they knew that it was the presence of The Wanderer that prompted such. That alone spoke volumes of what those inside thought of him.

"I guess the Wasteland's big hero is no stranger to the red-carpet treatment" Dusk muttered after seeing no indication that this was a surprise to The Wanderer.

Though she hadn't meant for anyone else to hear her, Michael's sensitive ears picked up what she said with ease. He shook his head, ignoring her seemingly sarcastic remark. His attention returned to Megaton to see it's Sheriff stop just outside of the gate, waiting for them.

"Alright, I've got a few extra things to take care of it seems. Go ahead and take care of any business you have here." Michael said, raising his head slightly to acknowledge Lucas Simms.

Kodiak and Vargas looked to each other. The Wanderer wasn't the highest ranking member in their party, nor was he in charge of the Pride. He was practically issuing orders to Sarah and her squad. However, they both knew better than to say anything.

As if anticipating their discontent, a single 'click' was heard over their short-range radio, the radio silence signal for 'affirmative', where two clicks signal 'negative'. They looked to Sarah and she subtlety tapped her helmet, letting them know it was her and that they'll be following the Wanderer's lead. This put the majority of them at ease. Vargas wasn't one to tolerate disrespect, intentional or not, but he'd obey Sarah.


Michael and Lucas Simms walked slowly into Megaton, heading for his home with Reilly and Sarah in tow while the rest of the Pride went about their own business within Megaton.

"I was told that you had a hell of a time 'playing' with Talon lately." Simms said, looking at The Wanderer with a knowing gaze.

The Wanderer shrugged. "I gave them plenty of time to reform. They didn't."

The old Regulator sighed. Though he wasn't opposed to cleansing the Capital of evil men, he knew that a good deal of people within Talon Company were just trying to get by or provide for their families. He knew that The Wanderer was aware of that fact as well. "You do a lot of good out there. More than anyone else, I'm sure. But the Regulators aren't looking upon you fondly when you mercilessly slaughter people who could have surrendered."

The Regulators were a group of self-proclaimed vigilantes who sought to bring evil men and women to justice. They were known for their quick wits and deadly accuracy, as well as a sense of morality that they felt all should be able to follow and abide by. Their leader, Sonora Cruz, sought out The Wanderer shortly after they had learned that he was responsible for ending Junders Plunkett and had taken the duster of their fallen comrade who failed at bringing Plunkett to justice.

She tried to recruit him, saying that he had done a great service to them and The Wasteland, but he refused. He saw them as another mercenary group with an odd habit of collecting the fingers of their high-value targets. He wasn't interested in their sense of justice, but he saw no reason to go after them, since they were, in his eyes, decent people.

The Wanderer leveled a hard stare at Megaton's Sheriff, one that made the man's blood run cold. "I'm not interested in Cruz's approval. Those who could have surrendered should have thought harder before deciding to join Talon."

They came to a stop outside Michael's front door. Lucas, trying to amend the situation, spoke carefully "Easy now. I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just letting you know the situation. I quit for a reason, you know."

"And yet, you still wear the uniform."

It was Simms's turn to shrug. "You wear it too, over that armor of yours. Doesn't mean you're one of them, now does it?"

Instead of answering, Michael turned away toward his door. He could hear shuffling coming from inside the house. "He been fed today?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Not yet. Creel was supposed to do it today, but he's been down at the clinic all morning puking his guts out. I told him not to try that Molerat Stew." Michael nodded, understanding the situation.

Reilly was lost. "Uh.. Who is 'He'?" she asked. Sarah was equally confused, but it didn't show thanks to her helmet, still resting soundly on her head.

"Dogmeat. He gets a little grumpy if he hasn't been fed by 9 AM. You might want to get behind me."

"Dogmeat?" both women asked at the same time.

Their answer came quickly when The Wanderer opened the door and a brown and black blur bolted out from inside the dimly lit home. For a single moment in time, a set of sharp, snapping teeth were inches away from Reilly's throat before Michael, displaying his incredible reflexes, grabbed onto the beast's collar and yanked. Hard. There was a yelp, followed by vicious snarling.

Dogmeat was, as the name suggested, a dog. A very vicious dog. "Dogmeat doesn't like strangers." Michael said, firmly holding the dog down.

Reilly blinked. She had been inches away from having her throat torn out. Michael speaking brought her out of her stunned state. "Wadsworth, open up the fridge and get some Molerat"

Sarah's head tilted when she saw a Mister Handy robot emerge from the domicile moments later with a plate piled high with Molerat meat. Dogmeat still growled at her and Reilly, his teeth on full display. He was silenced, however, when Michael growled back. A deep, monstrous growl that no human should be capable of. Then, he took the plate from Wadsworth, Michael's robotic butler, and put it right in front of Dogmeat's nose.

"If you want to eat today, you're going to behave yourself." Michael said. As if in understanding, the dog whined in submission. Slowly, Michael released pressure on his hold until the dog could move again. Though he still kept a firm hold on the collar, he allowed his dangerous companion to rise and begin eating his very late meal.

"Well, I'll leave you three to it then. Cruz is probably going to contact you soon." The Sheriff said before parting ways with them, going about his rounds.

Michael didn't give any indication that he was worried. He wasn't. If he didn't fear going toe-to-toe with a Deathclaw with nothing but a switchblade, he definitely didn't fear Sonora Cruz or the Regulators.

Reilly and Sarah stood there, watching as the dog consumed a massive amount of meat at a rapid pace. As if reading their thoughts, Michael spoke. "Dogmeat is practically bred to kill. A few people in town take care of him while I'm gone, but it took a good deal of time and one of Billy Creel's fingers to get him to this point." He said, patting the dog on the head.

Looking at the dog closely, Reilly could tell he resembled a German Shepard with a few various mixes thrown in, which gave him a size that most dogs in the Wasteland didn't have. He had a few obvious scars on his body and one of his ears looked like it had a bullet pass through it. "He's the one Three Dog would talk about a while back, right?"

Michael nodded. Three Dog, the Capital Wasteland's DJ and source of news often told people of The Wanderer's latest sightings and went into great detail. He also took creative liberties with the stories to inspire hope in people as well as put the fear of the Wasteland's messiah into Raiders and the like, not that it was necessary.

"Every once in a while, Dogmeat and I go out on a trip. It helps keep him sharp. When I'm not around, Jericho, one of the town's guards, will take him out to clear nearby locations that Raiders seem to flock to. He's pretty much the only person in this town who Dogmeat will listen to." Michael said, taking the empty plate and releasing the dog, knowing that he wouldn't attack the ladies now that he's been fed. He gestured for them to follow him into his home.

'Home' wasn't the right word for it, however. There was nothing 'homey' about it. The shack was a standing armory. Various weapons and armor, some of which they had never seen before, were scattered around the shack in a way that screamed 'organized chaos'. Piles of ammo boxes littered the corners with various caliber markings drawn on them in chalk. The air was surprisingly clean, though it smelled of metal, gunpowder and gun oil. A complete frame of Lyons Pride T-45 stood between two lockers, the metal practically shining.

"Make yourselves at home. I've gotta swap a few things out and grab some ammo."

Sarah marveled at the extensiveness of the armory. There wasn't a single weapon that she knew that wasn't there, and even a few that she didn't know. She walked over to one of the lockers, being careful not to trip over anything, and grabbed a rifle she's never seen before. She looked it over closely, her gauntleted hands gliding over the metal and polymer. It had a scope and was set in a bullpup design, where the magazine was fed into the weapon from behind the trigger assembly.

"That's a Kel-tec RFB. Chambered for 7.62. Basically a compact marksman rifle." Michael said, glancing over at Sarah while gathering ammo for his incredibly large, strange revolver.

Reilly looked down from the second story, leaning over the railing. "Where does all of this come from, anyways? Half of this stuff can't be from around here." She asked, a strange looking submachine gun in her hands.

The Wanderer looked up at her. "Heckler and Koch MP5KSD. Chambered for 9mm." He said, setting down his Barrett M107 "Most of this isn't from the Capital, but some of it is. There were a few sealed crates full of weapons that I've yet to see Raiders use that I found up north, but the majority of it comes from elsewhere" He finished cryptically. This led the two other occupants of the shack to raise their eyebrows. Just what else did he have stored away?

Michael went about gathering various kinds of ammo for his weapons while the girls quizzed him on different weapons that were scattered throughout his home. After a few minutes of this, they switched to the armor which was also placed around the shack.

"So, what's with that armor you wear? I'm seeing a few sets of it here, but I haven't seen it anywhere out in the Wasteland." Reilly asked, examining a near exact replica of what The Wanderer was currently wearing. It was black and looked to be a condensed version of the Combat Armor she and the rest of the Rangers and Talon Company would wear. Highly durable and easily patched, along with accepting all kinds of load-bearing equipment, but it was heavy. What Michael wore seemed to be both lighter and tougher, and she wasn't sure where it came from.

Michael finished loading one of several magazines for his M1A rifle, looking up at her. "This is from a long, long ways away. A group of people I came across wore this armor. They called themselves Desert Rangers, funnily enough" He paused, deep in thought, a frown appearing on his face.

"They were a long way from home and were looking for some kind of bunker full of weapons that were supposed to help them win some war they had going on. It wasn't my fight, but I helped them out once they agreed to share."

He grabbed a very old looking revolver from a shelf and put it on the table in front of him. "The bunker was trapped. Eight of them died. Two of them survived, but barely. It took a lot of work keeping them in the land of the living. They gave me this and let me take the armor the others were wearing."

Sarah's head tilted. "Where did they say they came from?"

"The Mojave. They didn't want to tell me all that much about the place." Michael said, shrugging. "From the way they were talking it seemed like a warzone."


Dusk was on the catwalks attached to the walls of Megaton, looking out into the Wasteland. It was a near perfect sniping position, being up so high and there being little in the way of cover for any would-be attackers. She wasn't thinking about that, though. Her thoughts were of the previous night and that morning. More specifically, her thoughts were of Colvin.

She wasn't a fool. Dusk was fully aware of the tension between them long before the previous night. It was practically as thick as Power Armor. It had been that way ever since the night after The Wanderer had destroyed the Landcrawler.

The Brotherhood celebrated, and a massive amount of alcohol was involved. She and Colvin had gotten competitive over something that she couldn't remember while they were inebriated, and that had led to one of the best nights of her life, as well as one of the most awkward mornings. She and Colvin woke up in his bed in a mess of tangled limbs and sheets, smelling of booze and sex. She could still remember the feeling of soreness between her legs she had that morning.

Nothing was said. Not really. She dressed quickly and left his room before any real conversation could take place. Afterwards, they had a silent agreement to not talk about it. Not talking about it seemed to be a mistake, but it was well past the point of no return for both of them by the time they had realized such. Kodiak had made comments about the tension between them, but generally the rest of the Pride ignored it.

Her grip on the rifle in her hands tightened. She had told herself that it was a mistake. That it only happened because they were drunk. She knew that was a lie that she told herself to feel better about their situation. The real mistake was not talking about it afterwards. She was too scared to do that. She didn't want to be seen as something less than 'Knight Captain Dusk' in the eyes of the Brotherhood. She couldn't risk her station being compromised due to personal feelings.

"Something on your mind?"

Dusk turned to see Paladin Vargas, the Pride's second-in-command. "No sir. Just waiting for the order to move out."

Vargas nodded, sharing her view of the Wasteland from the catwalk. For a long moment, they stood there in silence before Vargas spoke up. "Dusk, I've never felt the need to remind you of what the Brotherhood expects of you" he said, turning to face her. "You've never done anything to warrant that kind of talk. I don't expect to need to do so in the future."

Dusk turned to her senior "Sir?"

"It's not my place to judge what you do in your personal time, Dusk. Nor is it Sarah's, or Elder Lyon's for that matter. There are no rules as to what you do on your own time."

Her eyes widened. What was he saying? Did he think something happened between her and Colvin last night? "Sir, I assure you, nothing hap-" Vargas raised his hand, silencing her.

"Let me finish, Dusk." Vargas said "It's not our place to limit what you do on your free time. Likewise, it's not our place to tell you how stupid you've been being" This came like a slap to the face. Dusk wasn't sure what Vargas was saying.

Vargas sighed, looking back out into the Wasteland. "It's definitely not my place to say that you're clearly putting yourself in a position you don't want to be in due to fear. It's not my place to tell you that whatever your fear is, it's completely unfounded."

Dusk started understanding what he was saying. "However, if it were my place, I'd tell you to stop. I'd tell you that you have nothing to prove. I'd lock you and Colvin in a room for a week. But, it's not my place. So I can't say or do that."

As Dusk finally unraveled the riddle placed before her, she spoke quietly. "Thank you, Sir."


"So, why not just have the robot feed Dogmeat?" Sarah asked, watching the dog out of the corner of her eye as it carefully observed the two women.

Michael's response came first in the form of a chuckle. "Well, we tried that already. That's when I had to go scavenging for Mr. Handy parts."

As if on cue, Wadsworth floated down the stairs "Mr. Michael's canine friend seems to have an aversion to me. I've been told not to take it personally as Mr. Michael has informed me that Dogmeat has equal distaste for other robots."

Reilly looked to Michael for confirmation and she got a shrug. "Don't ask me. I don't know where he gets it. He's the one who clued me into Harkness."

Reilly and Sarah both knew who Harkness was. A very serious, very professional, very strict security guard at Rivet City. He was also the 'person' of interest regarding a missing person case. Dr. Zimmer was looking for an escaped and malfunctioning android. The trail eventually lead to Rivet City's security chief.

Sarah grimaced, recalling the Three Dog's report on the situation. Michael had decided not to turn Harkness in, but used what was called an 'activation code' that unlocked his previously sealed memory, allowing the synthetic man to remember who he was, as well as return access to all of his combat protocols

They decided to wait it out. According to Harkness, the search likely wouldn't last much longer before Dr. Zimmer was commanded to return to The Institute. Unfortunately, in that time Dr. Zimmer had found out who Harkness was. It was mostly unfortunate for Dr. Zimmer and his bodyguard, a 'Courser' – the same model of synthetic person as Harkness – when they tried to make a move on the security chief, as Michael was there that day unloading some weapons at Flak 'N Shrapnel's.

According to Dr. Zimmer and Harkness, Coursers were designed to be elite killing machines. Supposedly, they were able to take down a Deathclaw in hand-to-hand combat. "The best that ever ever were or will be" so said Zimmer.

In little over a minute, Dr. Zimmer's bodyguard, Armitage, was utterly destroyed. The scene was said to look like what happens when a Behemoth steps on someone. Michael then executed Dr. Zimmer before Harkness could get in a word edgewise. He wasn't arrested, of course. He was The Wanderer. What were they going to do, ask politely?

Sarah looked to Dogmeat, catching his eyes. They were practically the same as Michael's in what she felt when she looked into them. Only on the outside was he a dog. Inside, he was every bit the demon Michael was, only on a smaller scale. His eyes held intelligence not seen in even most humans. But as much fury as they held, they were equally protective.

She lost the staring contest.


James and Colonel Autumn were standing on the roof of the Commonwealth Institute of Technology ruins, looking out upon the wasteland known as 'The Commonwealth' with a sense of accomplishment. Though they still had a long way to go, it was a large step.

They'd managed to keep a fairly low profile since entering The Commonwealth. Aside from a few incidents involving the largest local mercenary group known as the 'Gunners' they've flown under the radar despite the small entourage of Power Armor wearing soldiers securing the building they were on top of.

"You said they'll know we're here?" Colonel Autumn asked, looking to James.

The older man nodded. "They've known ever since we entered The Commonwealth. You see those birds?" He said, pointing to a set of crows on the ledge of the building. Autumn nodded.

"They're one of my projects. Notice how they don't have any kind of scarring? They're not organic. They're synthetic."

Autumn's eyes widened. Now that was a level of technology that even the Enclave at it's prime couldn't achieve. "They're on the surface for 24 hours at a time before they need to be recharged. In that time, a pair of cameras, one for each eye, is recording everything it sees on a Holotape. It's then processed and any people or locations of interest are marked."

"Marked for what?"

James smiled. "For retrieval."

Then, a bolt of energy struck the ground between them.


"So, what's this thing that you needed to pick up, Glade?" Kodiak asked. The majority of the Pride had assembled at the gate, having finished doing what they needed to do. Glade had told them before leaving Fort Bannister that he had a 'project' to pick up from Moria.

Next to Glade, Colvin snickered. He had gone with Glade despite being told he didn't need to and saw exactly what it was. "Oh, you wouldn't believe what our pal Glade here just got his hands on."

Several power armor helmets turned to the direction of Glade. He sighed, knowing that he should've kept quiet about it. Glade opened the storage pack attached to his power armor and pulled out the object in question, bringing it into view for everyone to see.

"Is that..?" Dusk asked, completely flabbergasted.

"Oh yes. Yes it is, Dusk." Colvin replied.

In Glade's hand was a set of women's Naughty Nightwear brand lingerie. It was in immaculate condition, proof of Moria Brown's talent at restoring old, beat-up things from before the war. Behind his helmet, Glade was blushing.

"I didn't take you for a crossdresser, Glade." Sarah's voice came from behind, causing the man in question to stumble while he turned around to face his squad leader.

"I- I'm not! This isn't for me, it's for.." Glade clamped his mouth shut, but it was too late. He had already said too much.

Kodiak's head tilted while he asked the question that was on everyone's mind. "Who is it for, Glade?"

Glade muttered an answer, uncomfortable with the entire situation. "Haylen"

"Haylen? The new Scribe?" Kodiak asked.

Everyone turned their attention to an approaching Michael with Reilly in tow, causing Glade to sigh in relief. "Alright, let's move out." He said, walking past them towards the already opening gate.

Those present noticed that the redhead had changed out her weapon for something more compact. It wasn't like anything they had seen before. Unknown to them, it was the very same MP5 that she had asked Michael about. "What's mine is yours" He had said after she asked him if she could take it.

They headed East.


A/N: So, the majority of this chapter had already been written for quite a while before I finally finished it up. Truthfully, it wasn't an easy chapter to write in the first place. Long breaks were taken in-between writing it, which I believe to be the cause of the difficulty. Add that to my current 'main' story, Fate Brave Shine, and it's no wonder that it took so very long to get posted. This chapter is fairly short compared to how I envisioned it going, but that is because I've decided to split it into two parts, as the second part will most definitely be more substantial when I get around to writing it.