Saul Jonfield Danse was in trouble. What was originally supposed to be Squire Maxon's first patrol, something that he and several others had planned to be a fairly safe excursion beyond the walls of the Citadel, had turned into a fight for their lives.

Knight-Commander Danse and his team had initially taken fire from a small group of Super-Mutants, but upon advancing on their position, it was revealed to he and his team that the small group firing on them was just the tip of the metaphorical iceberg. When they overtook the small group's position, they stumbled upon a much larger group of Super-Mutants, about thirty of so. Danse was quick to call a retreat, but as they ran back towards their original position, Super-Mutants hot on their tail, they came face-to-face with a large group of well-armed Talon Company mercenaries.

To say that this was a surprise would have been an understatement. Neither group had time to fire on the other, however, because just moments later the Super-Mutants caught up to them. It would have been comical if it hadn't already been one of the worst encounters Danse had ever seen or heard of. He managed to protect Squire Maxon and part of his remaining squad, but at the cost of the functionality of his Power Armor, forcing him to eject from his frame.

The ensuing three-way firefight had taken two more of his squad-mates, bringing down his team to just for members, including himself and Squire Maxon. Despite this loss and the overwhelming odds staring them down, the four remaining Brotherhood members fought bravely. They had a fairly defensible position, but they were running low on ammo. It was only a matter of time before they were overrun.

Knight-Commander Danse loaded his last Microfusion Cell into his Laser Rifle and whispered a prayer that couldn't be heard over the gunfire and explosions. He readied himself to make his final stand, but a strong hand clasping his shoulder prevented him from standing up. Startled, he whipped his head around, looking for the invisible force holding him down. The air shimmered and a man appeared next to him.

It was then Danse knew someone had heard his prayer. Perhaps not some all-powerful deity, but one could be forgiven in thinking that maybe, just maybe, the man who had just appeared beside him was the embodiment of an Old God. A God of War, perhaps. The man wasn't even looking at him, instead looking out on the battle taking place. In those few moments, Danse knew that this man had already come up with a way to win this battle. After all, overcoming overwhelming odds was The Wanderer's specialty.

The Wanderer's icy blue eyes found Danse's. "This position isn't safe. Move your men to the metro on my signal."

"The metro isn't safe! Talon started pouring out just before you got here" Danse proclaimed, worried they might not have a way out after all.

The Wanderer shook his head. "They were retreating to the surface to get away from me. It's all clear down there. The Pride is waiting for you to get to them so they can cover your escape. Don't keep them waiting."

A look of understanding crossed Danse's face. That explained the look of shock the Talon Merc he came face-to-face with had. He hardened his resolve before barking his orders to his remaining team. When he looked back to ask what the signal was, The Wanderer was already gone.

Moments later, two massive explosions occurred in the middle of both groups firing on Danse and his team, and seconds later their focused fire was directed towards somewhere else. The Wanderer, most likely.

The Knight-Commander gathered his strength and moved, pulling Squire Maxon along with him, the remaining members of his team following close behind him. Not wanting to draw any attention, they kept as quiet as they could and stowed their weapons, making a beeline for the Metro entrance. The last bit of strength left his body as he stumbled passed Paladin Glade who was on point for The Pride.

Sentinel Lyons knelt next to him, checking him and Maxon over while the sound of gunfire and explosions echoed through the underground.

"Status report, Knight-Commander" She ordered.

Danse groaned as his body snapped to attention thanks to the brutal training he had underwent. "My squad was tasked with taking Squire Maxon out on his first patrol when we came under fire from a small group of Super-Mutants. When we advanced on their position, we found it wasn't a small group. I called a retreat back into the Metro, but that's when we came face-to-face with Talon. We fell back to a secondary position and prepared for the worst."

Danse grimaced, thinking about the lives lost today.

"Initiate Lucia, Initiate Clarke, Knight Dennis, and Scribe Anderson are all KIA. I lost my Power Armor shielding Squire Maxon and my squad from a plasma grenade, and we're out of ammo."

Sarah nodded before helping Danse to his feet and pushing a fresh MF Cell into his hands. "Well, now you're not out of ammo. Think you can make it back to The Citadel?"

Danse looked to his team, noting that Scribe Haylen, who Glade was tending to, had completely destroyed her right leg making the run to the Metro, while Knight Rhys was unable to properly shoulder his Laser Rifle due to a broken arm, though his Power Armor helped mitigate that issue slightly.

Squire Maxon was surprisingly well-off, suffering only light grazes from small-arms fire and a bit of shrapnel. He was bloody, but he was still very much capable of fighting, the only one other than himself.

Danse shook his head. "It's possible for me to make it back, but without half of what's left of my squad. That's not something I'm willing to do, Sentinel."

Sentinel Lyons smirked. "Good answer, but that won't be an issue. You'll have us as an escort as soon as you're able to move."

Danse's eyes widened. "What about The Wanderer?" He asked, looking towards the sound of another explosion and more gunfire.

"The Wanderer will be fine, Knight-Commander." A voice said from behind. Danse turned to see a redheaded woman who looked familiar to him, but he didn't quite know. "I'll stay behind with him. Sarah, get moving. All this gunfire is only attracting more vultures."

The Knight-Commander was surprised to see a civilian addressing Sentinel Lyons in such a manner, especially when she was in the midst of her own squad. "Excuse me, but who exactly are you?"

"Formerly Knight-Captain Reilly, currently leader of Reilly's Rangers." Came a voice from the stairs. Everyone turned to the voice, weapons raised, only to see it was The Wanderer. The gunfire and explosions had stopped, and he was covered in so much blood it was dripping off of his duster and making a small river down the stairs.

Reilly made a mental note to talk to Michael about the name of the Rangers. "Done already? From Danse's report there were a lot of Super-Mutants up there." The redhead asked.

A frown appeared on The Wanderer's face. "There were a lot, but once I was done with Talon and they started losing numbers, they scattered. I've never seen them do that before, or congregate in such large numbers outside of a nest."

This was concerning. Everyone present knew just how much of a hard time The Brotherhood had with organized Super-Mutants in the past. "You think there's a smart mutie around?" Dusk asked.

Michael let out a small, dark chuckle. "I know there is. I'm just concerned that there's more than the two I already know about. They were more organized than I've ever seen from Super-Mutants. Some of them were even giving orders."

"This needs to be brought to the attention The Elder" Sarah said, eyes wide.

Michael nodded. "Agreed. One more item on the list. Come on, we're wasting daylight standing around."


"Explain it again." Rothchild said, fingers on his temple and eyes glazed over.

The Lone Wanderer sighed, looking at the people in the room, sat around a round table. He stood in the middle, fully aware of the eyes wide with disbelief or amazement on him. It was something he was used to, but not something he appreciated when it came from the people he considered the closest thing he had to allies.

In the room were the Brotherhood's senior members and leaders. Elder Lyons, Head Scribe Rothchild, Star Paladin Cross, Sentinel Lyons, Scribe Vallincourt, Proctor Quinlan and Proctor Teagan, and the rest of the Pride. The room was packed as full as it possibly could be. Such was the result when The Lone Wanderer asked for the senior members of The Brotherhood of Steel listen to what he has to say, especially when it involves weapons, armor, or other things of interest.

Now, here he was, handing over the locations of several of his stockpiles, as well as extending a hand of friendship from the Rangers, while Reilly herself was told to wait outside. He was going to force their hand to let her into the meeting, but she was quick to accept Rothchild's 'request'.

"As I said, I have with me the coordinates of several secure locations stocked full of weapons, both conventional and energy, as well as several hundred suits of Power Armor, some of which you've likely never seen, in both large and small frame. I'm willing to hand over these locations freely, as a gesture of friendship and good faith."

Rothchild cleared his throat before speaking "Why are you turning it over now? More importantly, why haven't you turned it over when you first came into possession of these weapons and armor? Despite not acting like it, you are a member of the Brotherhood, and that is your responsibility as such." He asked, trying to sound diplomatic about it and failing.

Michael turned his head towards Rothchild and leveled a glare at him. "I was granted the honorary rank of Knight after the battle for the Purifier, and then later granted the honorary rank of Paladin. I'm not on your payroll nor was I issued an official set of holotags" He said, choosing his words carefully. In truth, he had been given a pair of holo-tags by Sarah, but that was in no way 'official' and they were safely hidden behind his shirt, armor, and duster.

Many of the people in the room grimaced at both Rothchild's words and the response he got. They were acutely aware just how far they had come thanks to The Wanderer's efforts. He was instrumental in taking down The Enclave, and without him they would have lost a war of attrition with them long ago. Rothchild opened his mouth to respond, but Elder Lyons raised his hand, silencing the Head Scribe. When the Lyon spoke, the Brotherhood listened.

"We thank you for the offer and we are prepared to accept it, but I'm curious as to what you get out of this, Michael." Elder Lyons said, carefully choosing to use his given name.

"As I'm sure you're aware by now, Talon Company is gone. With some help from the Rangers and the Pride, we've taken their stronghold location and eliminated their upper leadership. Any remaining members are likely going to find a living doing something else, or move out of the Capital Wasteland."

The reports of the raid on Fort Bannister, lightly detailed by a few far-off observer's accounts, had indeed reached the Citadel and Three Dog, which means it had reached most of the Capital Wasteland.

A small smile met Michael's face. It was genuine, which was something not many in the Brotherhood had ever seen before. "I've taken on a leadership position within the Rangers. In the future, I'd like the Brotherhood and Rangers to work together towards the same objectives. They're going to be just about as well armed and supplied as you after I open up a few other locations to them. This offer is me ensuring you that I haven't forgotten what you have done for me, and wanting to keep amicable relations between the Rangers and Brotherhood."

This came as a surprise to many in the room. In the past, The Wanderer had turned down just about every offer of leadership offered to him, by both the Brotherhood and Outcasts. In fact, one of his most recent visits to The Citadel ended up with a cocky, newly-appointed Knight being put into the infirmary for two months after challenging The Wanderer when he was in a bad mood. Many believed The Wanderer was too far gone, too feral to be up to the task of being a leader.

Elder Lyons nodded his head, knowing exactly what The Wanderer's involvement with them had done for their numbers and station in the Wasteland. He knew that once word spread about him being directly involved in leading the Rangers, it was only a matter of time before the Rangers' numbers exceeded their own. People with lesser minds could take that as a threat, and indeed some in the room might have if he didn't come to them with this offer.

Rothchild's eyes narrowed when The Wanderer claimed that the Rangers would be as well supplied and armed as the Brotherhood even after his 'gift' to the Brotherhood.

"You say that there are other locations at which you've stored valuable and dangerous pre-war technology and that you're planning on arming a force outside of the Brotherhood with it. This would be a clear violation of Codex which, honorary or not, you are expected to uphold. Dangerous technology should not-" Suddenly, Rothchild found it impossible to keep speaking and very difficult to even breathe as The Wanderer's presence bore down upon him like that of an angry god. His body seized up and if he were not sitting down, he would be kneeling before The Wanderer, albeit involuntarily.

"Give way your suspicions to the wisdom of thine Elder. Where he shows trust, so shall you." Michael quoted, not letting up on Rothchild just yet. "I would have expected a Head Scribe to abide by the Codex more than an honorary member. Even so, I've done more than enough for the Brotherhood for you to know that I'm not your enemy. I'm also not your personal scavenging team. What I find, I get to keep, from bottlecaps to Nuclear ICBMs. The fact that I'm giving the Brotherhood anything at all should tell you all you need to know about my intentions."

By this point, Rothchild would have done anything to avert his gaze from The Wanderer's, but he was unable to. Each passing second felt like an eternity where his very soul was being set alight by the fiery gaze of The Lone Wanderer.

Though Elder Lyons was not the target of The Wanderer's fury, he could still feel it somewhat. He could also see the effect it was having on his closest friend. "Michael, please. I do believe that Head Scribe Rothchild has seen your point, as have we all." He said, trying to break whatever was entrapping the man.

Michael released his gaze and air once more flowed freely into Rothchild's lungs. He breathed deeply and heavily while many in the room stared at the aftereffects of whatever The Wanderer had just done to him.

Proctor Teagan wasn't one of them. A grizzled veteran of the Brotherhood, he had seen his fair share of strange things in the post-apocalyptic world. While he didn't know what The Wanderer had done, his mind was more occupied on what was said earlier about the stockpile of weapons and armor they were offered. He was the Brotherhood's new Quartermaster, so it was his job to ensure the Brotherhood had the right weapons and armor to fight with.

"As fun as that was, I'm more interested in what we're getting than why we didn't get it sooner," He began, addressing The Wanderer "What did you mean by 'some of which we've never seen before'?"

Instantly, The Wanderer's mood shifted to something a bit more calm, happy to answer the questions he had initially expected. "The armor is designated as T-60 and comes in both large and small frame outfitting, though one of the locations I'm providing already has about a hundred frames already outfitted."

He ignored the near gawking of several people in the room, continuing. "It was designed by the same team of people who made the T-45 to be the T-45's replacement. Unlike the T-51, which was never put into large-scale production like the T-60 was, it's not a trump card for anything the Wasteland can throw at you, but it's leagues better than the T-45 when it comes to protection and maneuverability."

Michael then went on to explain what weapons he had stockpiled at the locations he was handing over. "As for the weapons, I've included a fair amount of the typical Laser and Plasma weapons you've all seen and a few different conventional weapons that I think you'll appreciate, but there are also some I've yet to stumble across in the hands of Enclave or Raiders." He then took out the adapter plug on his Pip-Boy and plugged into the hologram projector in the middle of the room. After a few moments and knob and switch flips, a hologram of a weapon appeared.

It was what looked to be a highly modified Gatling Laser. "There are a few of these at the first location. It's the Plasma analogue to the Gatling Laser. It'll shoot your typical green plasma bolts after converting the energy from an Electron Charge Pack. It also gives you the option to 'overcharge' the weapon by loading in a second EC Pack in an auxiliary port, effectively allowing the plasma bolts to melt Enclave Power Armor in just a few shots."

Many people were taking notes by this point, fiercely scribbling down every bit of detail they could while Michael continued his explanation. "The cost for that is fire rate, unless you want to melt the weapon and possibly have it explode in your hands. So if you're using it like that, fire slowly and accurately."

The hologram changed to a scoped rifle that some in the room had seen The Wanderer with a few years back. "Some of you probably remember this from the day we took the Purifier back from the Enclave. It's called a Gauss Rifle, and it's only one variant from the database I've read. It has a magazine on the side that will accept various kinds of 'ammo'" He paused, finger-quoting on the word. "The 'ammo' I've used has been from small gauge rebar to hammered-down railroad spikes."

Some in the room shuddered at the mention of railroad spikes, all clear at the handiwork The Wanderer had done with such things. "Whatever ammo you choose, it's then energized and projected out of the barrel at a great speed with the help of a Microfusion Cell. It's a great long-range weapon if you're looking to punch a hole in an Enclave Trooper that's behind three concrete walls, but you have to manually cycle the rounds and wait a bit before firing again." Dusk and Colvin both saw the potential in such a weapon for long-range engagements.

The hologram changed again, this time it was something resembling a Power-Fist. "This is one of my favorites. It's a highly compact, wrist-mounted shotgun that fires upon fist impact. It's about as devastating as you think, and is a great way to end a fight if you lose your other weapons." He pulled up the duster sleeve opposite of his Pip-boy arm, showing off that he had one on him at that moment. "It's fairly lightweight for what it is and has dampeners to avoid shattering your wrist upon firing, as well as a self-loading magazine. The downside is that the compact nature means after three punches, it's just something to hit your enemies with. Luckily, everything you hit with it goes down in one punch."

The image flickered, changing slightly. "There are also a few energy variants I've included. They generally discharge a third of an MF cell with each hit, but can be dialed up or down depending on need, though anything less than a tenth and you're not killing anyone, but it works wonders for information gathering. Dialing it up to the highest setting also works well for getting people to talk, provided you have more than one person with the information you're looking for."

Though it was hidden behind his helmet, a sadistic smirk appeared on the face of Irving Gallows. He liked the idea of this new weapon.

Michael disconnected from the projector. "There are others, but I'm sure you'll be able to figure them out. The conventional weaponry is simple enough, and you have scribes for the energy weaponry. This was just an example."

"Now, on to the other thing I need to talk to you about. I think we might have a serious situation on our hands." Michael said.


"I see you were finally able to find some non-mutated genetic material" James said, observing the various people walking around The Institute.

The Director of The Institute sat across from him in his office, following the older man's gaze. "Yes, it was quite a chore, but we were able to find an entire genetic archive that had been sealed away just before the Great War. The third generation has been around almost ten years now. They look and act just like regular humans. They eat, they sleep, and they bleed. Their bodies are almost entirely organic."

This piqued James' interest. "Almost?"

The Director nodded. "Apart from our Coursers, all third-gen models are free from non-organic material, aside from the neurological implants. For all intents and purposes, they're human. Wastelanders can't tell the difference."

The Director stood up, crossing the room to get more coffee. "I thought you'd show a bit more emotion, James. It was your project. After you left, we weren't sure we'd ever be able to complete it. What happened out there, anyways? Where did you go?"

A flood of memories rushed through James. Memories of a time long since past. "At first, I just followed the problems. Problems that me and my team could solve. It wasn't easy, but we weren't expecting it to be."

"Those problems lead us West, to California. New California, I should say. There, I met a woman. The smartest Wastelander I had ever met. She gave me a run for my money, even with all my fancy training and education." A sad smile met his face. "We worked together for a long time. Part of my team decided to come back here, and others.. The Wasteland is a cruel place."

The Director nodded. Of the ten scientists who left for the surface on James' Expedition, James was the third to ever make it back.

"That's when I decided that I needed to stay. They needed my help, and I was glad to give it. Even if it wasn't always appreciated. Catherine had a bit of a temper."

"That's the name of the woman you met?"

James nodded. "She was part of this group called the Followers of the Apocalypse. Their entire mission was to help people, and wanted nothing in return. They weren't very large at the time, but between the two of us we grew the Followers into a sizable group that was welcomed everywhere we went. We grew so large we had to start expanding beyond New California. We set up outposts everywhere people needed help, moving eastward as we did."

"It sounds like you did a lot of good together."

"We did. But then we got to what used to be Pittsburgh. By that point, we were stretched so thin we didn't have proper defense against what we found. It was a Raider haven, and there were these people in Power Armor.. They were killing everyone for no reason. I tried to get them to stop, but when I did they.." James stopped speaking, choking on his words and tears.

The Director looked at his old friend sadly. "I'm.. I'm so sorry, James. I had no idea. How did you survive?"

Tears and sorrow gave way to anger. "Right before they could kill me, another group came in and fought them off. They saved me and tried to save Catherine and our child, but they didn't have the resources to do so. After I told them of Catherine's vision, a wasteland where the waters of life flowed freely, they helped me. We set up a purifier in what used to be D.C. Just before we could activate it, the other soldiers came back and took it from us."

"I flooded the antechamber with radiation and killed them and nearly myself, until Colonel Autumn saved me once again."

"Colonel Autumn is the man you were with?"

James nodded again. "He spent nearly every last resource he had at his disposal saving my life a second time, all while the Brotherhood of Steel destroyed everything the Enclave was working towards. Now, we're home."

The Director finished writing before putting his pen down and turning off the recorder on the table. "Now that you're back, what are you planning on doing? There are a lot of projects that could use your help, but something tells me you didn't bring these 'Enclave' soldiers here for the advancement of science."

James turned to the man, fury in his eyes. "I'm here to finish what Catherine started. To do what The Institute has always wanted. We're going to save Mankind, and the Enclave is going to help us."


"Smart mutants? All the way out East? Are you fuckin' kidding me?" Glade exclaimed, having read exactly what happened back West with The Master and his army. Much of the Brotherhood who had made it East were happy to see that the Super-Mutants in the Capital were much less intelligent than their cousins.

Rothchild, having found his voice again, chose to speak up once more "If I recall correctly, you were once.. companions with a Super-Mutant. Fawkes, was it? Could it be behind this?"

He received another hard glare from The Wanderer, though it wasn't anything like what it was before. "He is still a friend of mine, one who has saved my life twice so far. Not all monsters exist in their current state out of free will, Rothchild. Some of us even retain our humanity."

Michael's emphasis on the word 'he' as well as his own words calling himself a monster, whether that was how he viewed himself or how he thought Rothchild and others might, did not go unnoticed by any in the room. Especially Reilly, who Michael had brought in before the second discussion had started without any protest from Rothchild or anyone else.

"There's also another. Leo. He is somewhat like Fawkes, but he's a pacifist, so it's not him behind it, either."

Dusk let out a bitter laugh. "A pacifist Mutie? I'll believe it when I see it."

Michael's head mechanically rotated in her direction. "I'd introduce the two of you, but I don't think he would appreciate such uncivilized company."

Dusk was taken aback by The Wanderer's ruthless defense of a Super-Mutant, knowing full well that his kill-count for mutants alone dwarfed the entire Pride's kill-count, mutant or otherwise. It left her speechless.

Elder Lyons chose this moment to step in, taking the heat off of Dusk. "You're sure that one of them was giving orders?"

Michael turned back to the Elder and nodded. "It was difficult to hear over the gunfire, but before I got to Knight-Commander Danse, I definitely heard one of the Super-Mutants ordering around the rest, and the others were following them."

Elder Lyons rested his chin on his intertwined fingers. Super-Mutants following orders was not the problem. That wasn't unheard of, even for the Eastern variety. Generally the biggest, meanest Super-Mutant of his own 'pack' would dictate where they went, when they ate, and who got to eat first. But an Eastern Super-Mutant in battle was lost to his own rage and could barely follow orders, much less give them. To hear that not only was this happening, but in such a large group? That was unsettling.

Everyone in that room knew exactly how much of a toll the war on Super-Mutants had been taken from the Brotherhood. It was to be the final nail in the coffin before The Wanderer showed up and eager Wastelanders wanting to lend a hand or devote their life to something more followed in his wake.

"The Super-Mutants scattered quicker and more efficiently than anything their size has a right to be. I'm going to have my hands full with the Rangers for good while, so I'm relying on you to capture one and get him to talk." Michael said.

"What? You want us to bring some dumb mutie inside the Citadel, alive, and talk to it? How the fuck are we supposed to do that?"

Michael turned to Dusk again "You have better training than it, power armor, and I'm giving you several tonnes of weapons and ammo. That's how you capture it. Gallows is how you talk to it. If he can't, I'll bring in two people who can."


Hours later, outside of the Citadel, on the bridge Liberty Prime once marched across, stood two Regulators. They had been tracking The Wanderer for days, waiting for a moment to approach him. By the order of Sonora Cruz, The Wanderer was to be brought to their headquarters for questioning. She had authorized any amount of force necessary to get it done.

The two of them both knew that if The Wanderer didn't feel like coming along with them peacefully, their 'mission' would quickly become a death sentence if they followed through with their leader's orders. That is why they watched and waited, hoping to find a time where The Wanderer might be in a good enough mood to hear them out.

Neither of them wished to die, but neither of them wanted to disappoint Cruz, either. Though there had been strange goings-on in the top leadership meetings, they still respected their leader and would do their best to follow through with her orders.

They both knew that The Wanderer had seen them watching him. It would only be a matter of time before he approached them. If he did the approaching, neither of them were sure they'd be able to get him to hear them out, and they'd be put in one hell of a tough spot.

Just as they went back to looking through their binoculars to look for The Wanderer, they heard a voice behind them.

"You know, the last time I found out a group of people were spying on me, I blew up their mountain."


A/N: The next chapter for Michael's Rangers is here, though I wish it had been able to come sooner. Writing this story is different from Fate Brave Shine. With FBS, when I start writing a chapter, I'm stuck doing that and only that until it's done. That's a minimum of 7k words in one or two sittings. When it comes to this story, however, I can write a few paragraphs here or there when I'm feeling up to it.

This story is a block of stone that I'm chiseling away at, piece by piece. I can walk away for a good while in the middle of a chapter and come back easily. FBS is different. To me, each chapter of FBS is like it's own individual blade. I have to strike while the iron is hot, and I refuse to start a new chapter if I might be forced to let it sit and cool. That being said, I do wish to get the next chapter of FBS out soon. My health has yet to improve and at this point I doubt it ever will, but it'll be a cold day in hell when I abandon the story that I dream about practically every night.