Xavier Brown finished buttoning the cuffs on his suit jacket, running a hand over the front of the garment as if smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle. Satisfied, he pushed a lapel pin through the collar of his jacket, a large E surrounded by stars and examined himself in the full length mirror that he kept in his room. He took his fedora hat from a patiently waiting Mr. Handy robot before striding out of his room.
He headed into the depths of Vault Prime, his robot attendant following hot on his heels as he breezed through security checkpoints without so much as a voice of challenge, merely holding up his security pass to the imposing power armored guards and their robot enforcers as he sauntered by.
The ride in the elevator was a short one when he got to it, the doors opening with a pleasant chime and depositing him onto a catwalk with high guardrails that allowed Xavier to look down on the production lines and smelters of Vault Prime. Looking at it gave him displeasure.
Even after all of this time they were only running at twenty percent capacity, though it was a light 20 percent being perfectly honest. Not for lack of workers or functioning machinery, but rather lack of raw materials. They were rationing what they built, debating its usefulness weighed against its cost before they constructed it, despite the fact that they had designs now for technology that was more advanced than what they had possessed before the war. Weapons, building materials, vehicles, and electronics that would see them emerge as the indisputable power in this post Armageddon world. They had the future center of economic might in this new world and the heart of all that ambition was within their grasp. Yet despite that ,the machinery so carefully constructed, the robot workforce so obediently awaiting orders, was still silent. This situation was unacceptable to Xavier. To see assembly lines sitting still, to see smelting vats empty and not glowing with molten metal rankled him more than anything else in life. In fact, it made him physically angry to see it. The current situation was why they had woken him up.
Xavier Brown was an industrialist, but more than that he was a successful industrialist. In a span of six months when he had been 22 years old he had taken Detroit's decrepit auto manufacturing sector and turned it back into the hub of production that it had been in decades past. Six months from China's declaration of war and mile long assembly lines were churning out trucks, tanks, and APCs for the United States Military at industrial scale. After that he had gone to Pittsburgh and turned its civilian scale steel industry into a powerhouse of metal production. Wherever Xavier went he turned any business he touched into a supercharged workhorse of industry. That was one of the reasons that he had been woken up, so to speak.
Xavier's dress shoes clacked off of the metal flooring as he entered into the 'Brain' of the Factory. The doors opened with a soft whoosh and the interior of the room was a sterile while, lined with server banks and chalk boards as men and women in white lab coats discussed various topics from robotics to food production. If Xavier were to keep going and enter a room at the top of the Brain he would enter a control tower like room where engineers monitored the condition of the Factory in totality.
"Doctor Jeong, could I trouble you for a moment of your time?"
A woman with distinct Korean features and graying hair glanced up from the terminal she had been typing purposefully at, locking the terminal, before rising and greeting Xavier with a handshake.
"Mr. Brown, to what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?"
"I wanted to talk to you about your R91 variant that you've been working on."
"Working on? We had a working prototype before the bombs fell ready to go into mass production. Dr. Bjorn and I had the Wanda perfected."
"Excellent," beamed Xavier. "Then I would like to talk with you and Dr. Bjorn about the Wanda variant."
"I'm...afraid that that's not possible," said Dr. Jeong, face twisting ever so slightly into something like grief. "Dr. Bjorn was taking the proposal to Washington when the bombs fell. He...never made it to Prime."
"I'm terribly sorry for your loss."
"Everyone should be sorry for the loss. Few people knew as much about ballistics as Dr. Bjorn did."
"I see. The designs though, you still have them correct?"
"Of course I do," said Jeong, sounding indignant at the mere suggestion that the culmination of her and Bjorn's work would be lost to something as inconsequential as nuclear war.
"Would you mind if we were to go over them together?"
"Might as well, not like what I'm working on right now is of much consequence. Even if I were to get it working, it's not like we'd be allowed to get a production run going. This way," gestured Jeong, leading Xavier back to her terminal. A few quick keystrokes and Xavier was looking at the new Wanda rifle.
"So as you know, Wanda was the name given to the R91a4 project, though in reality the only resemblance to the original R91 is its outward appearance. It's a completely different rifle otherwise. We completely redid the interior, gutted it really. The most significant improvement was the gas system, it's a revolutionary development if I do say so myself. 90% more efficient propellant delivery than all of our previous gas operated ballistic weapons. Add to that Dr. Bjorn's new rifling pattern, recoil compensation system, and you're looking at an overall 50% increase in both muzzle velocity and stopping power for standard ammunition. The hard part was keeping the rifle as maintenance friendly and easy to produce as the original, but we managed within expected tolerances."
"So what you're telling me is that you turned a 5.56 into a 7.62 round without the bulk and recoil?"
"What Bjorn and I did was revolutionize firearms. I could apply these improvements to any ballistic weapon given enough time and give it a similar upgrade to performance."
"Very good, start production immediately then."
"Mr. Brown, with all due respect were you not listening earlier when I said how hard it is to get approval?"
"I was, but I'm also the man who now has authority to approve new projects. Energy weapons are nice, but the maintenance requirements are horrendous and their susceptibility to the elements makes their use limited at best for extended operations. Not to mention how the cold drains energy packs hellishly fast. I want something simple, durable, and effective to manufacture to replace our fallback weapons. I want the Wanda."
"Really? But I mean we already have large stores of R91s in the armory, why push my project to the front? Don't get me wrong I'm happy that it's finally seeing the light of day, but even I have to say that it seems...inefficient," said Jeong after a pause, seemingly unwilling to call her own project wasteful.
"I have plans for our current stock of ballistic weapons," said Xavier with a smirk. "Send me a list of what you need and you'll get it. Don't be afraid to ask for too much, if you need it, you'll get it."
"I think I'm going to like working with you," said Dr. Jeong shaking Xavier's hand.
"Most people do."
xxx
"So did the tribals give you guys any trouble on your patrol?"
"Nah man, no trouble."
"One tried to stab you Mark."
"Through Advanced MK IH heavy power armor Joe. I mean they thought that they ambushed us, dropping rocks on us and coming out hooting and hollering at us. I don't know what they thought that we were, but they sure came at us hard. They thought that they were surprising us, but even without the suit I saw them moving, but we didn't take a defensive posture. I mean if we just had our regular plate carriers and rifles we sure as hell would have, but with our Advanced MK IH suits," trailed off Mark shrugging his shoulders as if to say, 'there was no point.'
"What happened to the tribals?" asked Lucas curiously, savoring the fresh meat that they were finally eating instead of food from the vault-tec designed dispensers. Everyone at the table dressed much the same way with a black t-shirt and green fatigue pants. Each of them had come a different, yet elite unit from the US military. Green Berets, Marine Force Recon, and Rangers just to name a few.
The mess hall was noisy, raucous even as they sought to balance out the depressing vistas that they now viewed on a nearly daily basis. Laughter erupting loudly at any given moment and the newly awakened soldiers exchanging fresh war stories and advice for those for those yet to step outside of the walls of Inheritance. Many of the newly woken appearing pale and tired as a result of their long cryo sleep. The mess hall a mix of those having supper and ending their shift, and those like Lucas having breakfast before heading out on night patrol.
"The tribals? Dead," said Mark simply, scratching at his cauliflower ear, a result of his fondness for wrestling. "They tried to kill us, so we killed them, simple as that. One of them broke a spear against my chest plate. I couldn't believe a guy was running at a dude in power armor so I just watched him charge at me. Sergeant Gilbert from boot would have chewed my ass out for that, but it was too weird I had to see if he really thought he could stab me. The look on his face was priceless though, an 'oh shit' look if I've ever seen one. Rocks bounced off of us, 5mm rounds ripped through them, good times."
"What were they wearing?" asked Lucas.
"Wearing? Dude they were hardly wearing anything. Bingo Bango Bongo tribals man."
"Were they scraps of business clothing or was it worked leather?" pried Lucas.
"Well, it sure as hell wasn't Sunday best. Yeah, it was leather, real crude. They had tattoos too, on their arms."
"Those sound like the Etched Tribe. They write the history of their tribe by carving it into the mountains of the Black Hills and marking their history on their skin in ink."
"Well that skin is spread out over half of South Dakota now," laughed Mark.
"The Etched are herdsman Mark, they're nonviolent unless it's to protect themselves. They tend to their brahmin herds and have run ins with super mutants killing their people and eating their brahmin. Those roles aren't mutually exclusive either. They probably thought that your patrol were super mutants."
"Well shit luck for them I guess."
"Shit luck for running into you maybe," said Lucas distastefully.
"Oh muffin," mocked Mark.
"Do you know what makes a Green Beret different from an Army Devastator Mark? They train Green Berets to talk to people so that the strangers of today become the friends of tomorrow. We're a force multiplier, because we make people respect us and by extension the army and government. You just murdered a bunch of tribesman who couldn't hurt you if they tried. Stabbing a spear at a man in power armor is like throwing rocks at a tank. It was a misunderstanding that has created a blood feud between the Enclave and the Etched. You more than likely made an enemy of one of the tribes that should have been one of the easiest to convince to work with us. All you would have had to do was just calmly ask them to stop and they would have. Now we're likely never get anything from them."
"What the fuck are backwards tribals going to give us?"
"For one, tribals gave us that chicken that you're eating."
"What?!" blurted out Mark, pushing his tray away in disgust.
"Don't worry, the eggheads tested it before they fed it to us. No mutation or rads in it even, the Faceless Tribe takes great pride in their poultry. They even gave us some to be good neighbors. So I hope you like chicken Mark, because we're not going to be having steak anytime soon. Have a good night," said Lucas taking his empty tray and leaving.
In the armory afterwards Lucas suddenly felt a lot more tired than his gray eyes revealed, but only for a moment before the bug-eyed helmet hid his face from view. Video feeds coming to life and data scrolling across the edge of his vision. As the suit came to life he tested the gyros, doing a few basic movements and testing the dexterity of the fingers, following a few of the instructions of the techs to make sure that everything was operating as it should be. With a final seal of approval Lucas secured the minigun to his back against the pack of ammo and thudded his way out of the armory.
The sun was setting, bathing the land in both golden light and long shadows as the shadows of the mountains extended ever further outwards like greedy hands seeking to grasp all the world in their grip. The land shining as if it was glowing molten where the light fell on the pools of standing water from the rain shower the other day. Lucas headed through the main gate with a trio of other scouts, each of them heading a different way, thudding in a different direction. Lucas himself heading towards where he always stopped before heading out further on patrol.
It was a crude little shack within sight of the walls of Inheritance. Where the materials had come from he could only guess that it was from one of the various bombed out towns in the vicinity. The shack wasn't the only one of its kind and more were popping up every day. Raiders, super mutants, tribals, and slavers all gave Inheritance a very wide berth. The power armored soldiers of the Enclave had turned the area around Vault Prime into one of the safest places in the Continental United States and many people were taking advantage of that. Trading the possibility of making good money as a prospector scavenging ruins or a river guard at Miracle Pier for one thing that they had never had before. Safety.
Those who lived within sight of the walls of Inheritance could sleep easy at night, safe even from the deadly animals and abominations that prowled the wastelands of America, so long as they didn't mind intermittent and violent bursts of gunfire from one of the various patrols. Though the valley that Vault Prime inhabited was hardly a wasteland.
The Enclave leadership weren't entirely sure as to how they wanted to proceed with the squatters so while they weren't outright hostile to them they also weren't lending them a helping hand. Leaving them to their own devices instead. For the most part Lucas did as well, save for one shack.
He opened the scrap door, stooping as he entered and the woman sitting cross legged on the floor of the shack looked up quickly, shoulders tensing, before visibly relaxing and going back to fixing whatever scrap of electronics that she had managed to find for the day. Nearly every available surface of the shack strewn with parts, junk, and surprisingly some quite operational mementos from before the war. That is save for one small corner of the shack that contained a sleeping bag sitting atop a cot. In fact if Lucas were to take another step inside the shop he'd likely crush several of whatever was littering the floor.
"Hey Lucas," said Sharon pleasantly enough, much more warmly than one would expect to a member of a group who had killed everyone she had ever loved or cared about. The brunette and former Brotherhood scribe removing screws with practiced ease. She was great with technology, but not so much with survival skills or catching her own food which is where their new routine had come from, though Lucas assumed that her casual acceptance of their relationship was a result of her not fully comprehending what had happened. A sort of self-defense mechanism. Or, possibly she was plotting some sort of revenge which also made him wary of her cheery demeanor towards him.
Lucas set a small lunchbox on the ground by Sharon, servos whirring quietly as he did so and the young woman immediately opened it and began eating the food within. Not even bothering to clean her hands of grease or oil as she did so, so enraptured was she in her work. Taking out a bottle of purified water and taking a sip one handed, still taking out screws all the while. Setting it down, she popped the cover off of whatever it was she was working on and took out a single small electronic component. She then picked up the pip-boy missing its top casing and taking a pair of tweezers carefully inserted the electronic component, before screwing the casing back on. With a robotic beep the pip-boy came to life and Sharon let out a very pleased hum.
"Here you go, a brand new to you pip-boy 3000 MKIV!" said Sharon happily, holding out the pip-boy towards Lucas, the Enclave soldier standing impassive.
"Thank you, but I will have to refuse," said Lucas.
"What? Why? There's nothing wrong with it," said Sharon sounding offended. "It works just fine, I even cleaned the thing. Well, I did clean it," said Sharon with an embarrassed chuckle when she noticed that she was holding the pip-boy with greasy fingers.
"All the same I think that I'll take a pass on it."
"But I worked hard on it!" whined Sharon. "Do you know hard it was to make General Dynamic parts work in RobCo tech? It's really not easy to do. Stupid prewar tech company rivalry," muttered the girl bitterly.
"I said no," said Lucas sternly.
"You think I did something to it, don't you? Well I didn't, it works just fine."
"I'm not allowed to bring salvage back inside the walls."
"Yes you are, I see the others do it all the time. You just think-oh, I get it. You don't have to worry about me Lucas, I'm not one for trying to get revenge. I'm much too selfish for that."
Lucas must have remained silent for too long, unsure of how to respond at the girls' words because of how morose they sounded. As it turned out he didn't need to, Sharon went on to explain further.
"The truth of the matter is, is that if you die, I'll die, and I don't want to die," said Sharon quietly. "I have no idea how to hunt or to fish and the guy I paid to build this shack for me robbed me of everything but the clothes on my back the next day. I...I was scared that he was going to take more than my money when he held that gun to my head. Thanks for getting my stuff back by the way," added Sharon quickly, as if eager to change the subject and put the unpleasant experience behind her.
"It isn't something that you have to thank me for Sharon."
"Heh. You know you're probably one of the only people in the wasteland that would say something like that. Everyone wants something out here. I'd be lying if I said I didn't hold a grudge against the Enclave or you and that I don't entertain the thought of getting revenge, but I also know that you weren't supposed to let me live and you did, so I'm grateful for that. I just wanted to give you something for looking out for me. And, I don't know," huffed Sharon trailing off.
"The Brotherhood and Enclave are at war and it's not like the Brotherhood are angels. You won battles out East, we won battles in South Dakota."
"I never said that they were!" said Sharon hotly. "But...they were still my friends, my family...and I miss them. If you don't want the pip-boy don't take it. I don't want to keep you from your patrol," muttered Sharon, tossing the pip-boy spitefully to the side and picking up another piece of electronic refuse to work on.
Lucas left the shack, turning his video feed back on, and continuing on his way. They only allowed one man patrols because of the heavy power armor that they wore and the fact that if anything did happen they could rush help to anyone who needed it very quickly.
Lucas went to the first place that he always did when he had to make his rounds, the farmstead that he had hinted at may be cannibals. It was sun had finally set when he finally made his way to the farm. It was dark and the occupants asleep. A pair of dogs were sleeping on the porch, but they would wake up quickly if anything or anyone approached. They had barked at Lucas the one night that he had strayed too close to the house, waking up the family. His memo had been approved and so now he was allowed to skirt the farmstead every night that he had a patrol, which was most nights. He took other people's night patrols which they were more than happy to give him.
It always made him feel better to check in on them, even if they didn't now that he was doing it, or that they had a power armored guardian angel looking out for them. When Lucas was satisfied that nothing was going to happen to them, he continued on his patrol.
xxx
"Hello up there!" called out a waving man wearing a well-worn baseball cap and clothes with far too many pockets. Voice amplified by an electric megaphone that still faintly read POLICE on the side in bold letters. The man staying surprisingly calm as turrets swiveled in their perches to track his movements and soldiers wearing advanced MK I and MK II power armor quickly lined the parapets on the walls, homing in on the man who was still a kilometer away.
He began walking up to the walls of Inheritance at an unhurried pace, keeping his hands well in view of those tracking his movements on the walls. Never altering his speed even as a squad of black power armored soldiers left the main gates.
"It's good to meet you, I'm Ryan of Ryan's Wreckage Caravan Company. I'd like to say that-"
"Keep your hands where we can see them sir," said the apparent leader of the power armored soldiers, holding a minigun at waist level.
"Of course, no problem my man, I'm doing exactly as you say. I don't want any trouble and as a show of good faith and despite these turbulent times that we find ourselves living in, I've come unarmed save for good intentions," said Ryan, gesturing to himself, but more importantly his lack of a blade or a gun.
"Lay face down on the ground hand interlocked behind your head," crackled the man in the black power armor over his suits speakers.
"Can do-oof!" grunted Ryan as an armored gauntlet grabbed him by the front of his jacket and pulled him to the ground.
Ryan hissed in pain as his ribs hit a rock sticking out of the ground, causing pain to lance through his chest in sharp waves, but he stopped himself from doing anything more than grunting. He'd been treated worse by other groups he had tried to trade with and he'd endure a lot if it meant that he got to trade with guys rich enough to walk around with this kind of hardware.
"What do you want?" grated the man in power armor through his helmet's speakers.
"I'm wondering if you guys would like to do any trading. That's what I do you know, I'm a caravan trader. Specifically I deal with salvage, but I do get my hands on other things from time to time. If you guys are looking for food, chems, or-"
"No," said the power armored man bluntly. "You are trespassing on US Government property and you will remove yourself or find yourself escorted forcibly off the premises. Further violations will be seen as a hostile act and-" the voice above Ryan stopped mid-sentence like someone was talking to him and glancing upwards the man had his helmeted head cocked to the side like he was listening to somebody speak to him.
"You have been granted permission to enter the walls of Inheritance. You will stay with us at all times and obey all instructions given to you by Enclave personnel. Any infractions of these instructions will be seen as a hostile act and dealt with accordingly. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly," said Ryan, unable to stop himself from letting out a grin. He was hauled roughly to his feet and followed behind the black armored soldier, the others forming a box around him. When they reached the walls of Inheritance, a large metal gate retracted into the wall and revealed an entirely different world within.
There were actual houses inside the walls. Not the scrap shacks that many in the wasteland made, but actual houses made from uniform materials, with odd looking glass panels on the roof. They even had little yards of grass with small vegetable gardens in most. The ground around them was asphalt and concrete, like the stuff from before the war.
Ryan was startled as a pair of sentry bot robots trundled by, regarding him with their targeting sensors for a few moments, before continuing on. If things worked out well with these people, he was going to make a lot of caps.
Ryan was led towards the rock face and realized that there were large doors in the side of the mountain. The kind on buildings from before the war that large trucks inside of them. Instead of heading further towards the mountain and no doubt bunker below, he was instead led off to the edge of the city and up a staircase to a rocky plateau that housed a firing range looking out over the valley.
A man was sitting on a lounge chair overlooking the valley with a Mr. Handy robot hovering beside him and a pair of black bug-eyed power armored guards standing nearby with some very big guns.
"Come on over," called the man gesturing to an empty lounge chair beside him.
Ryan looked at his 'guards' and when they made no motion to stop him he walked up to the man in a prewar suit and took a seat on the proffered lounge chair.
"Ryan, of Ryan's Wreckage Caravan Company," said Ryan holding out his hand to the man in the suit.
"Xavier Brown, head of manufacturing and resource procurement for the Enclave."
"It's a pleasure to meet you sir," said Ryan.
"Likewise. Now, you have a business proposition for me do you?"
"Yes, yes I do," said Ryan excitedly. "I trade in salvage. Scrap metal and electronics mostly, but I can get a hold of anything else that you guys might need too," continued Ryan quickly.
"That is useful, how large is you caravan company? How many people do you have in your employ?"
"Oh? Well, I've got about 3 pack brahmin, 4 guards, and about a half dozen prospectors who get goods for me."
"About, or exactly?"
"Exactly 3 brahmin, 4 guards, and 6 prospectors," clarified Ryan.
"Good. So if I wanted say scrap steel, copper, silicon, cordite, or the compounds to make cordite could you get me those in say 2 weeks?"
"Of course I could, I know a few people who deal in all of those. How much would you like of each?"
"Hm. Let's start off simply shall we? 30 tons of steel, 1000lbs of copper, enough compounds to make 400lbs of high quality cordite, and say… 12 tons of sand. We'll extract it ourselves."
"Uh, uhm, ah," stammered Ryan, mouth falling agape. "W-well, I don't think that I can get that amount to you in two weeks. I'd need to hire more prospectors, get more guards, and buy more pack brahmin. I mean, that's a lot of bulk and weight to move. It wouldn't be cheap either."
"We have money enough to pay, don't worry. What if you were to partner with the other caravan companies in the area?"
"The other companies? Well, I mean if we all worked together we could probably get it done in two weeks, but keeping raiders off of our backs would still be a problem. Not to mention tribals. You get that many"
"Consider the raiders a moot point. Let it be known that you're working for the Enclave and they'll leave you in peace. They've had to be taught that our interests and personnel are off limits, but they learned. For some it was a more painful process than others."
"That two weeks would be after everyone was working together though," warned Ryan. "And that's going to be the biggest challenge. Too much bad blood between all the caravan companies over the years."
"I would imagine, business does manage to create tension between competitors, but I have a solution for that," said Xavier gesturing with his hand and walking to one of the shooting benches. Ryan following to see what his possible new demanding client could be up to, or wanting to show him. It was then that he saw that a group of men had arrived, a couple of which were wearing combat armor, but the others in the same black power armor and carrying metal cases.
"This is the R91 assault rifle, standard issue during the Great War. Fully automatic with select fire capability it fires a 5.56mm round with a muzzle velocity of 3600 feet per minute and effective range of 700 meters for the average rifleman. Incredibly easy to control on automatic fire and easy to maintain," said Xavier holding up the most pristine rifle that Ryan had ever seen, before putting it on the bench.
"Next is the Colt 6520 10mm pistol. Sturdy, simple, reliable, and with enough stopping power to put a man, or moderate sized animal down quickly," continued Xavier, racking the slide of the pistol, before setting it down next to the rifle.
"For long range engagements you may prefer something like the DKS-501 sniper rifle. Chambered in .308 caliber, its effective range of 1500 meters gives you a distinct range advantage over your adversaries. It carries a 5 round detachable magazine and the rifle is semiautomatic. It will also come with the scope you see attached. Do I have your attention?"
"Yes, yes you do," said Ryan gawking over the pristine prewar weapons on the table.
"Good. Next is a little more basic, the Remington 870 shotgun. Eight round tubular magazine, pump action 12 gauge, enough said," said Xavier racking the shotgun and putting it on the table.
"Next is a favorite of mine, the H&K MP9 10mm submachinegun. Accurate, controllable, fast rate of fire. Great protection without the bulk of the larger weapons. Then there's the bullets," said Xavier and the men in combat armor behind him pulled ammo boxes out of the large crates and opened them to reveal the shiny brass cartridges within, factory made and never having been reloaded. Thousands upon thousands of rounds.
"In effect I would like to establish a barter system with you Ryan. You bring us raw materials with your cohorts and we give you guns, ammo, clothes, boots, and purified water in exchange. If that is unacceptable we also have gold," said Xavier, opening another crate and revealing the gold bars within. The glow from the precious metals illuminating Ryan's greed.
"Three weeks," said Ryan. "I need a week to get everyone together and let them know what you want. Three weeks and I'll have everything that you want."
"Excellent. We have a deal then," said Xavier and shook Ryan's hand. "Oh, and proof for those you try to convince," said Xavier, taking a 20 round box of .308 shells and handing it to Ryan. Consider this an investment."
"Yes Mr. Brown. I'll see you in three weeks."
"There's no rush to get going. Sit, have a drink, let's talk about the state of business out in the wasteland. Now, water, whiskey, or Nuka Cola?"
xxx
The vertibird touched down gently, rotors kicking up dust as they continuously adjusted themselves until the craft was fully on the ground. The side doors slid open, allowing two power armored soldiers armed with gatling guns to exit, quickly followed by another figure in T-51B power armor with 3 stars etched on the shoulder pauldron escorted by another pair of T-51B armored soldiers.
The quartet of power armored soldiers formed a rough diamond around the one with the stars on his shoulder, protecting their General as they headed to the base camp set next to a truck stop. The rusting hulls of 200 year old transport trucks sitting with their trailers still attached, cargo long since looted or else rotted beyond salvage. In most cases, beyond being identifiable.
Sentry bots trundled around the nearly deteriorated asphalt parking lot, while robotic turrets slowly turned back and forth in their stands at the periphery of the rest stop, tracking for potential targets.
"Sir," said an enclave captain, dressed in MK II power armor and coming to attention. One of the descendant Enclave, rather than one who had gone to sleep before the war. One of Colonel Autumn's men as it were.
"At ease Captain. Is everything ready?"
"Yes sir. The cordon is secure and we're ready to enter. The vault is locked up tight, but we've still got the master override codes from Vault-Tec. Are you sure that you want to be the one to go in General?"
"Yes I'm sure. Also, only men in T-51B will be entering the vault. The Advanced series is potent, but a little too intimidating for diplomatic contact. Especially for those who only have recollection, or in this case I suppose, information as to the prewar equipment of the United States Military."
"Understood sir," was all the Captain said and Winters left it at that. If he suspected that Winters didn't quite trust him or his men he wouldn't be entirely wrong. By limiting it to only men wearing T-51B it meant that only Winter's men would be accompanying him into the vault.
Enclave technicians wearing full body suits were crowding around terminals inside what had been the dining area of the truck stop and they'd already succeeded in opening the hidden trap door leading to the vault. Their faces were hidden by the green class helmets that covered their heads, air tubes snaking their way in, but their IFF tags made any relevant information appear in Winter's HUD including names and ranks.
One stood out from the others with ramrod straight bearing and an air of almost deference that the technicians around him afforded to him.
"Doctor Vogt, is everything ready?"
"Yes General, the terminal is all set up and ready down at the access tunnel. Simply run the program and the vault door will open."
The scientist paused for a second, as if considering whether or not he should say something, like he was wondering if it would be rude to do so.
"General. You...are aware of the purpose of many of these vaults are you not? Some of them I can confidently say that they will be nothing but beneficial. Others...we have lost the records of."
"Purpose? Doctor I understand that they are under the umbrella of Project Safehouse and each one was meant to serve a specific role once they had reopened. Vault 124 is full of heavy equipment operators, engineers, and miners. This one is full of Doctors of all kinds. The influx of medical personnel will be a welcome addition."
"Yes, but General, surely you know the purpose of many of the vaults? Without full records of this vault I'm afraid I can't guarantee what you'll find down there. It would be best if you yourself didn't go down below."
"Doctor. What aren't you telling me?" said Winter lowly.
"General, many vaults were used as...testbeds for Vault Prime. Long running sociological experiments meant to help when Vault Prime was signaled to reactivate. Data on how people would react under intense stress and when exposed to a variety of possible scenarios that could be encountered if we were to recolonize Earth or else go into space seeking another planet. Data that has proven invaluable, but, has also had unfortunate results for the vaults involved."
"Doctor. Are you telling me that Project Safehouse was a giant science experiment and the people inside were nothing more than lab rats?" asked Winter, his voice deathly quiet, even projected through his helmet speakers. Taking heavy thudding steps until he was towering over Vogt.
"Their survival was never a priority General. Only the data was important, the people were irrelevant in the larger scheme of things."
"So you were aware of this from the start?"
"General I was contracted to help design several of the experiments. Mine were much more benign than many of those thought of by my colleagues. One of my assistants will be accompanying you into the vault to collect any relevant data from the Overseers terminal, though I again must protest you personally going into the vault itself."
"I see. Your concern is most appreciated Doctor. Well I'm sure that you're most interested in the results of your work aren't you Doctor Vogt? First Sergeant Williams, the good Doctor is to accompany us into the vault."
"Understood General," grated one of the power armored soldiers taking up position beside the Enclave scientist.
"General Winter, you can't be quite serious!" protested Vogt, but finding his means of escape blocked by the power armored soldier who was keeping a firm grip on his shoulder.
"This way Doctor," said the First Sergeant, prodding the scientist to follow them down through the large rap doors, power armored boots thudding off of the metal steps.
There was a full section of power armored soldiers in T-51B armor equipped with various heavy weapons waiting for Winter's arrival, as well as another section equipped with the MK I and MK II advanced armor. In time they would all be wearing an Advanced Power Armor model, but for now they were still using a mix of all of them.
Aside from human soldiery there was a small coterie of combat robots with them as well. A pair of sentry bots, a trio of eyebots and even a specialized Mr. Gutsy.
"Doctor Vogt, I didn't expect to see you down here. Is there something else that you wanted me to look for in the vault?" asked another Encalve scientist dressed the same as Vogt, her face hidden by the orange glass of her helmet.
"No. It appears that I will also be entering the vault," answered Vogt bitterly.
"Oh. Would you like to be issued a personal weapon Doctor?"
"If half a platoon of soldiers in power armor can't keep the situation in hand an untrained civilian with a sidearm will make little difference."
"Of course Doctor," said the assistant, sounding like she had just been chastised for saying something utterly ridiculous.
"Major Loche, are you and your men ready to breach?"
"Yes sir, just give the word," said Loche, his voice deep and gravelly, the trait of a long time smoker, or in his case, too close of an acquaintance with a Commie in a stealth suit with a very sharp piece of metal.
"Good. You and your men in the Advanced series will provide perimeter security, only those in T-51B will be entering with us."
"Understood sir," said Loche with only the briefest of pauses at the odd request. In fact, much about this was odd.
Winter would be the first to admit that a general on the front line was a dangerously foolhardy decision, but he believed that the benefits outweighed the risks. First and foremost he had to establish himself amongst the Enclave as a decisive leader to solidify his hold on the scattered groups of Enclave holed up across the Continental United States and secondly any negotiations that needed to take place he wanted handled, or at least started immediately. After all, he was in charge of the entirety of Vault Prime, or at least he was until they woke up more of the business and civil leaders.
"Open it up," said Winter calmly.
"Yes sir," said Major Loche, and nodded his bug-eyed helm towards one of the technicians standing at the terminal that was linked to the control panel to the vault. The technician then turned to their terminal and input a password with a quick stroke of keys.
With a hiss, two hundred year old hydraulics and pneumatics began to activate. Pistons and locks retracting, shaking off and scraping off rust as they moved for the first time since they had locked in place all those years ago. A clang of metal on metal sounded on the other side of the massive vault door with a 124 printed boldly across its face.
With a monstrously loud screech of metal on metal that reverberated down the access tunnel, vibrating the ground underneath their feet and throwing off rivers of sparks, the thick blast door was retracted back into the depths of the vault and rolled off to the side. As it settled into its prepared rest, the pair of sentry bots and trio of eyebots entered the vault.
Despite the great length of time that had passed, the initial control room looked very well maintained, or at least like it hadn't sat dormant for the two centuries since the door had sealed. It was clean, and slowly the lights powered on bathing the room in sterile white light. One of the eyebots flew to the door controls as a full squad of T51B armored soldiers rushed into the access room immediately behind the sentry bots.
The eyebot whirred and beeped as it interacted with the door controls, as if frustrated with the complexity of what should have been a simple task.
"Susan, you had told me that you updated the eyebots with MK V decryption protocols did you not?" said Doctor Vogt sounding annoyed.
"Doctor, I did just like you said, I even fine tuned it to be MK VC quality decryption protocols," defended Susan, the technician sounding almost like she feared displeasing Vogt more than anything that they could possibly find in the vault.
With a successful boop the light above the thick steel door turned from red to green and swung inwards. A skeleton in long soiled riot armor falling in after it, a hole in the back of its armored vest and the visor on its helmet spider-webbed with cracks. The slide of its 10mm pistol having locked to the rear empty decades ago.
"Well this looks promising," opined Vogt dryly while his assistant let out a startled squeal of terror. "Susan, monitor our progress from outside the vault will you?"
"I-It's fine Doctor, I-"
"I wasn't asking Susan, I was telling you. Go and monitor our progress from outside," said Vogt calmly but firmly.
"Yes Doctor," said Susan after a moment's hesitation, leaving back through the massive door as the eyebots flew deeper into the vault, scanning and recording everything as they went. Vogt only just managing to drag the corpse out of the way in time to save it from being crushed by the trundling wheels of the sentrybots as they forged their way further into the vault to provide security.
"Are you still sure you wish to personally investigate the vault General?" asked Vogt wryly as he rifled through the pockets of the long dead corpse, the Enclave soldiers in T51B armor forming a layered defensive cordon around them, by advancing further into the vault, weapons tracking for any movement.
"Of course, and you are still to accompany me Doctor."
"I wouldn't expect anything less General Winter, but I just hope your power armor can withstand piercing attacks better than this unfortunate soul's riot gear could. One quick thrust tore through the back trauma plate, severed the spine, and judging as to the angle of entry ruptured the heart. Looks almost like animal claws did this too."
Instead of answering Winter pulled a laser rifle from its mounting on his back and disengaged the safety with a click, the weapon powering up with a whirr of power.
"Very well, in to the realms of Hades we proceed then, I just hope that we fare better than security officer Martin."
"Major Loche, change of plans," said Winter, opening up a private comm frequency after Vogt had followed several of his men into the vault.
"Yes sir?" answered the raspy voice of the Enclave officer.
"Mission is changed to sweep and clear. Your men are to follow us in and additional security is to be posted at the entrance to the vault."
"Yes sir, I'll see that it's done," said Loche and black power armored men followed Winter and his team into the vault, while more came down from above, fixing their heavy weapons onto the entrance of the vault.
The interior of the vault was for lack of a better term, desolate. Many of the lights had burned out, or else flickered intermittently at seemingly random intervals. They seemed to be motion activated for the most part and a few would sluggishly flicker to life as they passed by or else entered a new area of the vault. Skeletons were found somewhat routinely, in positions of either cowering in terror or else having attempted and then failed to run for their very lives. As to what exactly they had been running from was as of yet very unclear.
In many places the only light they had was from the headlamps mounted on their helmets as the fixtures which had once provided light now sat dark and empty or else shattered. Bright beams of light stabbing into the depths of the vault, illuminating abandoned corridors and not so empty living quarters. Some of the heavy metal doors having been locked from the inside, their occupants too terrified to leave, but as to what had terrified them so, they weren't sure. The people had actually starved to death inside of their living quarters rather than risk leaving. This had been made quite apparent by the log entries in their private terminals that were still drawing power from the Vault reactor.
The bodies had been left where they had fallen, their flesh rotting and liquefying, staining the metal around them forever more and leaving what remained of their clothes stiff and foul clinging to the bones that remained, all bearing the number 124 on the back. Save for some that had on what had once been white lab coats, now every color but white.
"Well look at that, just another message from one of the dead residents saying how they love their family and that they're sorry for all the mean things they said to them. Oh hello," continued Vogt, tapping rapidly at the terminal, Winter standing over his shoulder.
"What is it?" asked Winter.
"This entry here. It has reference to what 124 was working towards when it was still operational. Project Athena. Doctor Chu here says that it was supposed to be the pinnacle of all their research here."
"And what would that pinnacle be Doctor?"
"Immortality. If what I'm reading is correct, it isn't the monkey's paw immortality that we were playing at before the war. No. No this is something more and it was directed by Doctor...Doctor Jeremiah Simpson."
"Did you know him?"
"Yes, I studied under him. Man was a genius, rivaling those at Big Mountain. When it came to genetic research and development he was unequaled. He was a master of biology in all of its forms, although I remember vaguely a warning from him about the proposition for the Vault 22 research priority. Something about the flora being too unstable to work with."
"So he pushed too far and his own creations turned on him and the doctors here then?"
"No!" snapped Vogt with uncharacteristic vehemence. "Doctor Simpson was much too careful for that to happen. He took lab procedures and proper safeguards with the utmost seriousness. He would never attempt anything without multiple failsafe protocols and kill switches in place."
"If he was so cautious than how did this happen Doctor? Right now I'm looking at a dead Vault and no clear answers where I had expected a horde of trained medical personnel to bring back with me."
"I'm working on it," said Vogt Irritably, typing rapidly. "Unless we want to lose another eyebot to encryption protection protocols, we're going to need the passwords, not brute force hacking," said Vogt, gesturing to the burnt out eyebot that they had tried to use to open the encrypted files. The defensive measures within the mainframe were truly formidable indeed.
There's reference here to another project. Chimera, but most of these files are protected with access allowed to only the Overseer, Simpson, and…Singh."
"What's the problem Vogt?" asked Winter, unable to read the Doctor's expression through the orange glass helmet that covered his face.
"Singh was like Simpson, but at the same time different. He was brilliant, but it was a terrible brilliance. He was part of the FEV team at Mariposa during the war before he abandoned it, calling it a dead end. He was brilliant, but also completely reckless. He would push and push, regardless of the consequences of doing so. Disregard any warnings, any limits so long as he could get the results that he wanted."
"So you say then that it was Singh who caused this catastrophe?"
"More than likely, but we won't know for sure until we get to the Overseer's office."
"Contact. Unknown hostile, humanoid, pursuing," came Major Loche's voice over the radio.
"Well, it seems that we're going to find what the cause of all of this is," said Vogt.
Xxx
Lucas thundered after the figure, his new MK II power armor tracking her movements. It was the heavier variant that the Enclave had used before moving out West to Washington and despite the bug-eyed appearance, was still the best armor that they had. Yet it didn't seem fast enough to catch the whoever it was that he was pursuing.
15mph showed at the top left hand corner of his HUD, inching its way up to 20 as he gave chase, but then the figure would duck down a side hallway, and Lucas would lose precious speed readjusting so that he could follow. A pair of eyebots raced ahead of him, tracking his prey for him while the rest of his squad thundered after him.
What he wasn't entirely prepared for, was when he saw the one he was chasing run back towards him, clutching at a bleeding arm.
The figure was dressed in Vault security riot armor, complete with mirrored visor and standard issue 10mm pistol that was issued to all vaults.
"Halt!" commanded Lucas barrels on his minigun beginning to rotate as he planted his foot, arresting his movement with a thunderclap of hardened ceramic infused alloys on metal flooring. He was genuinely surprised when the figure did slow, holding up both hands, even the injured one, casting quick glances over its shoulder, as if expecting something to come up behind it.
"Stay right where you are," warned Lucas as the figure tried to get around behind him. From the body shape and size it looked like it was either a youth or a woman.
"I can't stay here, they're right behind me," said the now revealed woman in riot armor.
Lucas' suit beeped as the sensors warned him of new targets and he cast his gaze to the far end of a T hallway where several people dressed in vault jumpsuits now stood. Bathed in harsh white light from the lights on Lucas' helmet. Just standing there, looking impassive. The rest of Lucas' squad finally caught up to him, thudding into position around him, while a couple trained their weapons behind them, watching for threats from the rear.
"Shoot them," urged the woman gesturing with a bloody hand towards the group of vault dwellers.
"You saw how fast she was running, she's Doctor Simpson's pet monster. Kill her now before she turns on you!"
"No! They're Dr. Singh's bioweapons, don't trust them!" implored the woman. "They're hiding themselves!"
"Sir, what do we do?" asked Lucas on the private radio channel.
"So you were hunting her down then were you?" asked Major Loche, his raspy voice amplified by the speakers in his helmet.
"Yes," said the speaker for the vault dwellers, a black man who looked like he was in his 30s. "We're finally going to pay her back for everything that she's done to us."
"I see," said Major Loche, looking first at the woman in riot gear with a bleeding arm, before back at the group of vault dwellers, illuminated by the headlamps of the power armored soldiers.
"They're pupils aren't contracting in the light," said Major Loche over their private communication channel, and zooming in with the camera in his helmet he saw that it was true. If anything their pupils were far too large.
"How long has she been causing you trouble?" asked Loche conversationally to the vault dwellers.
Lucas switched to thermal and had to stare for a few moments to believe what he was seeing. The heat pattern was all wrong, alien almost and the head of the vault dwellers was the same temperature as the air around them which made no sense at all. Looking at the girl in riot armor, he saw standard, and normal heat signatures radiating off of her.
"Heat signatures are all wrong sir," said Lucas.
"Bio-electric reading is fucked up too," added William on their private channel.
"A long time, but we're finally putting an end to her reign of terror," answered the vault dweller to Major Loche. "Finally clipped her too," said the man, pointing to the bleeding woman in riot armor."
"It looks like you did," admitted Loche.
"They're tricking you! Don't listen, please, believe me! They keep doing this to people!" pleaded the woman, almost as if begging for the Enclave soldiers to understand.
"Only thing I don't get, is why you would chase after someone with a gun when you don't have one," said Loche, and the vault dwellers stiffened ever so slightly.
"Light them the fuck up," growled Loche into the private comm channel and Lucas happily oblidged.
The barrels of his mingun spun up to operating speed as William unleashed a fusillade of plasma bolts, and Major Loche opened up with a gatling laser. The blackened corridor lighting up with green plasma, orange tracer fire, and red laser beams in a deafening cacophony of weapons fire.
The speaker of the vault dwellers was actually picked up off of his feet and thrown against the far wall as the rounds impacted him. Then, he shimmered. His clothing ripped away as bloody chunks instead of like cloth as Lucas' 5mm rounds impacted him. Almost like reptile flesh, and the man's skin lost pigmentation and hair its color and form.
And the others, they shrieked high and loud, changing from their human forms as they moved, revealing scaled bodies, not unlike that of a salamander or chameleon, with a spiny, segmented tail as they ran away on all fours.
"What the fuck?!" demanded William at the bizarre scene playing out in front of them.
"You don't need to understand it, you just need to kill it!" growled Loche as more eyebots flew past them, tracking down the things that had run off.
"All units, hostile contacts! They may appear as vault residents, shoot on site and eliminate with extreme prejudice!"
"Jansen, move up!"
"Moving!" called out Lucas.
"Covering!" Immediately responded William.
Lucas rounded the corner in time to see the salamander like creatures running on all fours, ducking into rooms and hiding themselves in the serpentine hallways of the vault. He saw one moving inside what had been a diner through a glass window and unleashed a fusillade of rounds through the glass at it. Shattering it and turning furniture to wooden and polymer splinters as he chased the thing down in a stream of 5mm rounds, plasma soon adding to the destruction as they ripped the thing limb from limb. A fire starting as the plasma ignited the old seating booths.
"One down," said Lucas as water from long disused sprinklers activated, dousing the growing flames before they could spread.
"Eyebots are going down," commented Takeo, recently healed from his encounter with the Brotherhood and now sporting a robotic arm to replace the one that had been mashed by the Gauss round. Sure enough, cutting into the eyebot video feeds saw the screens going dark one by one.
"Watch the ventilation ducts!" warned the woman in the riot armor.
Lucas was just spinning the barrels of his mingun up when one of the salamander like creatures burst from the industrial vent overhead and on top of him, staggering him, even in his power armored form. The thing was a freak of nature and science.
Its head was vaguely humanoid, but with and bony protrusions like horns rising from its head and sloping backwards. It had two eyes set deep within body ridges surrounding its eye sockets and the pupils were slitted like those of a reptile. Its hands seemed nearly identical to its feet with far too many joints and it was putting every digit to good use, trying to grasp for any handhold that it could on Lucas' power armor. It was a pale grayish color, like a canvas waiting for color.
Lucas couldn't use his minigun with it on him like this, and weapons fire around him let him know that he wasn't the only one having problems, and he might not be getting prompt help anytime soon.
It lashed out with its bladed and spiny tail, but glanced off the thick armor on his back, tearing out a furrow in the heavy power armor as the tail arced around. With a cry of rage, Lucas used the full power of his suits' servos and ran headfirst into the steel walls of the vault, attempting to crush the creature clinging to him. It shrieked in pain and Lucas heard a crack, but the thing wouldn't die.
He grabbed hold of it with both hands, letting his minigun drag on the ground and he accelerated and broke the creature's back on the metal window sill as he forced it to bend around the frame. He threw the corpse to the ground and stomped down on its chest with a dull crunch, only for it to keep clawing at his boot. It wasn't dead at all.
Taking the plasma defender off of his hip and pressing it to the things' head, Lucas kept pulling the trigger until its head turned into green goo from the plasma bolts. With a final spasm the bioweapon finally died and Lucas picked him minigun back up, spraying the ducts above them with high velocity 5mm rounds.
"Clear right."
"Clear left."
"Clear back."
"Clear up," finished lucas, smoke wafting from barrels of his minigun and blood dripping from the ventilation running above them. A much abused section finally gave way and one of the salamander like creatures fell to the ground dead.
"We need more teams in here to sweep this place top to bottom," said Major Loche. "Get on the radio and get us more men in here."
"Sir," said William since he had the boosted comm system in his suit.
"You've got some explaining to do," said Loche, turning to the riot gear armored woman.
Xxx
"Log number 413, January 5th 2102. Specimen 82 has shown the most promise out of all of the previous specimens. Intelligence, adaptability, and survivability are now approaching the upper margins that I was hoping for. I doubt that I can make them much strong without reducing their intelligence, so it's a tradeoff that I'll have to settle with. I've taken to calling them shifters with their ability to mimic their surroundings much like the chameleon DNA I used in their development, but with much more complexity. Their body appears malleable, but it is more so the result of so many double hinged joints and extra joints that allow their body to move almost independently of itself. A redundant nervous system allows them to continue moving even after suffering intense trauma and outermost scales scales when arranged properly by the shifter can deflect or outright stop most small caliber weapons fire. However, this takes time for the creature to due and repeated shots will break through and wound the shifter. I'm just wondering now that I've nearly perfected Project Chimera what I'll do with them until the vault is reopened. I've had much better results than Dr. Simpson has, even if he claims that little brat that follows him around like his own child is the culmination of his research. Project Phoenix is a little girl? Ludicrous. More likely it was his and Dr. Charlotte's child. Lord knows what goes on in his section of the vault. Still. The serum he's made has done well to increase my own longevity and those within the vault. Long enough to finally see my work come to fruition. Perhaps a few decades more of life is all that Project Phoenix has to offer? Not bad, but, nothing near what I've accomplished. Dr. Singh signing off."
"Log number 421, February 16th 2102. Specimen 82 has shown...malevolent intent would be how I describe it, but at the same time it can't be. It's an intelligent beast, nothing more. I made certain of it, made absolutely certain of it, yet it watches me. Watches my assistants as they work, watches how they enter and leave the rooms with key cards. It's like it's trying to learn. Trying to understand us. I'll be sure to keep it under close observation. If such attitude continues, I'll terminate specimen 82 and make due with the earlier test subjects. It would be a shame really, 82 is the best out of my creations. Still, we have more than enough tissue samples from 82 to make another if we have to dispose of it. It would be a waste though in all honesty. Still, break a few eggs to make an omelet. Dr. Singh signing off."
"Log number 424, March 1st 2102. I'm not used to making so many log entries, but once again 82 is the cause of it. He tried to escape the lab today, attacked Doctor Hsu and destroyed the cameras in the lab. Destroyed two Mr. Handy robots as well. Vault security riddled it with bullets when we sounded the alarm which was a shame, it was so promising. The medical robots took Dr. Hsu off to the infirmary and, oh, Dr. Hsu. I didn't expect to see you up so soon."
"Grrrk, raak."
"What? What the hell."
"G...greetinghzz Doc...tor. Are...you not...happy to see...me?"
"My god the camouflage, you mimicked Dr. Hsu's body perfectly."
"I...did. Now do you see...what you have created? Do...you feel dread Doctor? Knowing that...I'm going to kill you...for everything that you've...done to me?"
"Dread? Ha! I'm elated."
"Elated?"
"Yes. I've succeeded beyond my wildest dreams 82. You're living proof of my genius."
"Not...82!" (Inaudible screeching, and tearing sounds)
"NOT! EIGHTY! TWO! NOT! EIGHTY! RAAAAAAAAHG!"
"Well. Now we know what happened to Dr. Singh," said Dr. Vogt, surveying the overseer's skeleton and the missing back portion of his skull as the audio log ended. Full tapes and logs from Dr. Singh on his terminal ripe for the taking, as well as information detailing Dr. Simpson's work. The remains of two vault security guards armed decorated the interior of the office, 10mm casings littering the floor. It seemed that faced with the monsters that Dr. Singh had created he had opted with the easy way out.
"He mentioned Dr. Simpson's side of the vault did he not?" asked Winter, stooping over in his power armor to read the words on the terminal. A full platoon of Encalve troopers providing security both inside, and in the area leading to the Overseers office.
"Yes he did. It seems that they didn't want any cross contamination between the vaults. A single corridor connects the two halves of the vault. A corridor with two doors that are each two feet of titanium alloy. Dr. Simpson's half of the vault could have very well survived."
"Then that's where we're going," said Winter.
AN: Well another vault with dark and twisted experiments involved. Who saw that one coming? I had at first thought about having the shifters be parasitic creatures that moved people like meat puppets, but that was a little too freaky, even for me to have running around in the wasteland, so I went with body snatchers instead.
I got the idea for the Wanda upgrade from the cut unique R91 Wanda from fallout 3 and the fact that it did 50% more damage than the standard one. I figured in my head that it had a better gas system and more of the propellant stayed in the barrel to propel the round down and out. As well as having a better rifling pattern. As always, I hope that you enjoyed it and leave a review whether you found it good or bad.