I've heard some stories before but what this guy was laying out for me just made me shake my head. He and his motley crew had been chased from one town to the other, losing people all the way. He mentioned Ghouls and explained that they were irradiated, fucked up people. Now he and his friends were trapped in a ruined museum while raiders surrounded the place. Looking around, I was curious as to what exactly they had worth raiding. I counted five people, only two of which were worth the weight of a turd, plus two kids and an old woman. No wonder he needed help.

The guy, he said his name was Preston, and his sidekick Sturgis had some wild plan to jump-start a suit of power armor on the roof, grab the minigun off the vertibird crashed up there and use it to see the rest of the raiders off. Problem was, the suit needed a fusion core and Sturgis couldn't get through the locked gate in the basement to get to it. I nodded my head at their plan, dismissed it about a second later and told them I'd take care of everything. I crept downstairs, mainly because the front doors were wide open and incoming fire always has right of way, and picked the lock on the gate. Now I had one fusion core and no intention of using the minigun.

I'd been lucky enough to wear PA once or twice during the war, mostly for field tests and occasionally in emergencies when the regular pilot was dead or injured. The suits themselves are great, my problem with their plan was the minigun. Your typical 5mm minigun is essentially a lead hose that vomits bullets that are way too small over an area that's way too large in the hope of actually hitting something. No thanks. I had my own plan, thank you very much. I took the FC to the roof, popped it in the PA ('cherry' my ass…the thing was a wreck!) and climbed inside. Once I was sealed in the actuators took over and the suit moved with me.

I grabbed the minigun and slung it over my shoulder as I strode to the edge of the roof. I could hear pings as the bullets whined off the armor. Remember what I said about junk weapons? Yeah…those weren't going to be a problem even with the armor all busted up. I shot the guy yelling for his boss on the roof opposite me and then stepped off the edge. The raider I landed on was sure surprised. Half a ton of armored suit versus a sack with a couple of eye holes cut in it is no contest.

The raiders started crawling out of the woodwork, spurred on by their boss who was shouting orders as he darted across the street. I walked down the middle of the street like I was made of steel, spitting fire and death in every direction. Every raider got two or more bullets as the situation dictated, ending with the boss who survived to the count of four. Made of sterner stuff I guess. His last two goons were at the other end of the street and we walked towards each other like we were right out of the movies. The difference was that I was damned near bullet proof and they weren't. The last one was hitting the ground when I heard a sound…some kind of roaring…and then suddenly the street erupted.

A man can see things that will toughen him up…prepare him for anything. I have seen some shit in my time, but none of it prepared me for that. It was like a nightmare, climbing up out of the hole in the street. It was eight feet tall if it was an inch and it was all teeth and claws and really bad attitude. One of the raiders that had been around the corner turned to run from the thing but it bounded after him on all fours and caught him in about half a second. It grabbed him in its jaws and literally lifted him off the ground. The claws tore him in half at the waist before it dropped what was left of him to the ground. The blood was still dripping from its fangs as it turned towards me.

Remember what I said about the minigun? Well, it might be terrible for shooting at people but it's great for shooting at buildings, vehicles and the occasional giant monster. I slung the gun around, hit the trigger and felt the satisfying hum as the bullets poured out. I walked the stream of lead across the monster, staggering it. I noticed it was right next to a ruined car and I wondered if all those commercials about exploding engines were true. A few rounds later I discovered they were. The car exploded and the fireball knocked the critter sideways and set it on fire. All right then…we have a plan. I walked backwards at a measured pace as it roared again and charged me. There was an old pickup on the left and that too was touched off by the minigun. Two for two and the thing was still coming! I heard Preston's laser snap and a bright red beam hit the thing square in the head. Now that pissed it off! I stepped to one side as it raced by, looking like it would leap up and tear the balcony right off the building. I took the opportunity to spray the Hell out of it as it ran by and it died somewhere between me and the museum doors. I stood there for a few seconds as the dust settled and the smoke blew away with the breeze. It was a good day to be alive.

I went back inside and Preston was all smiles and glad to see me. Made out like I was their very own Second Coming. The old woman was babbling about something but then she got this puzzled look on her face. "Not the one," she said half to herself. "You are not the one." I recognized the lines on her face and the telltale color in her eyes. This one was a chem junkie from way back. Preston was going on about how she was leading them to a place called Sanctuary. Something about her having the 'sight.' Great…a true believer led by a junkie off to yet another version of Shangri-La. I smiled and took his money (bottlecaps… SERIOUSLY?) and told them I'd lead them there. I had no trouble with having a crew to guard my shit while I was gone and they didn't look like the types that would rob me blind if I was gone so whatever.

I pointed them up the road towards Sanctuary Hills and after they had left I looted every body I could find. PA suits can be touchy to maintain but one thing they are good for is carrying shit. I must have had near 500 pounds of loot by the time I hiked out.

The others had reached Sanctuary by the time I got there. The FC was about dead so I stood the suit in the corner and stashed my crap someplace safe. I had quite a haul, more than I needed really. I handed out the guns that I didn't want to the others, adding a few pieces of armor. It was junk but it made them look tough and feel safer so whatever worked. Sturgis wanted me to help him get everyone settled in so after a hot meal (Giant mutant lizard tasted good if you cooked it right. Who knew?) and a long sleep I helped the others set up some beds, a water pump and a couple of security barricades. I cobbled together a few of the guns into a crude defense turret to guard the bridge and told everyone not to walk in front of it. The sensor was cracked so who could guess what it would fire at? Still, it looked menacing so that was something.

Preston was asking for my help with his personal little crusade to save the world. Apparently, he was the last of the Minutemen (there are too many sexual jokes there…) and he wanted me to help a settlement nearby. I started to tell him to kiss off and then I took a look around. People believed in him. Maybe not his mission but him. I wasn't a leader, never had been and I didn't want the title now. Leaders get shot early in the fighting, they're the first ones killed when the new regime comes along. I was determined that I was not gonna be that guy. But if hanging with Preston and his boy band would lend me an air of respectability, I could go along with that. I put on a good face without letting him know what I was thinking. Sure…I'd do his dirty work for him because it's all I was good at. In return, I'd have food, shelter and someone to make sure I didn't get my throat cut in my sleep. I didn't have anything better going on so that was the deal.

I cooked up some chems, both for myself and for trading purposes, then rolled over for more sleep. The damned cryo was still kicking my ass and I wouldn't be 100% for a while yet. But I felt my old skills coming back, my old fire returning. Spending a year as a lazy drug dealer had made me soft…dulled my edge. I didn't have that luxury any more. Starting now, I was going to own as much as I could hold onto and anyone who said otherwise was in for a world of hurt.