"If you deal in death, then it shall be your payment." – Old Shi Proverb

Chapter 3: Gathering Storm

HUB, Downtown

The busy streets of the Hub began to die down as the last rays of the sun went down over the Wasteland horizon. Merchants and caravans soon secured their wares in anticipation of the coming night. The Nightlife in the Hub was not as violent or chaotic as New Reno or the Den, but it was dangerous all the same. Patrols of Hub Police forces and paramilitary units stood guard at street corners, watching the drunkards and chem addicts in case they threatened the peace. With no visible gun laws, or laws in general, one never knew what surprises would come.

The officers however, did have one order, to ignore the company sized forces that moved into the alleyways. Dozens of men and women in dark khaki garbs and trooper helmets, armed with service rifles and carbines. The police were strategically placed to cordon off any civilians from the downtown core, specifically by the Maltese Falcon, an old pre-war hotel that stood towering above its neighbouring buildings. Owned previously by the crime lord Decker, it passed hands onto his successors when he was removed decades ago by some do-good citizen.

Ranger Hanlon, noted the placements of the guards, mercenaries. PMCs or bounty hunters that were assigned posts to guard their paymaster's weapons no doubt; they were scum, willing to kill for even a few bottle caps. Though he had experience in dealing with these scum back in his tours at the Den and New Reno.

"Beautiful. Just Beautiful." Hanlon remarked as he passed the binoculars to Sergeant Reyner. "Don't think even the Muties or Salvadores were this careless." Within seconds, Reyner knew what Hanlon was referring to. The mercenaries of the underground didn't seem aware of an impending attack at all, or did not even bother setting proper pickets or lookouts. Instead, most of them were in the bar getting drunk, while several more simply chatted it up outside the hotel, having a smoke and drink.

Reyner had to agree himself, whoever did this set up was either cocky, or stupid in the extreme.

"Your first recon men set up?" Hanlon asked casually, chewing on a wad of tobacco as he ordered Bravo company to take up positions on the radio. By now, NCR troopers were assembling near the rooftops and windows of the buildings surrounding the Maltese, while two platoons of shock troops. Heavy Rangers in composite armor, waited for his signal to bust in.

"Yes sir." Reyner nodded, having sent off Wright with Morales and Benson with Jenkins to cover the approaches. Each man armed with a scoped hunting rifle that the Recon units favored, while his spotter used a pre-war service rifle. "We have all avenues on the building covered, my men are ready to move in on your command."

Hanlon grinned as he spat out his piece of tobacco. "Good, all we need to do is wait for the big boss to show up, then we move in."

"You figure he'll show?" Reyner inquired

Hanlon shrugged. "Hell if I know, but that's why the Colonel picked recon and rangers for this gig, unlike reg army, we have patience." The ranger chuckled.

"If your snipers can locate him, then my boys will do the rest. Take him out if you can, but seeing as we have two days left until the big ceremony, I'd like to move it tomorrow before they can get their plan into gear."

"Sounds good sir." Reyner nodded, "I'll let my men know."

"Good, and Sergeant?" Hanlon added, "Do this gig right and I'll see that your platoon is commended properly, maybe I can have a spot open in the rangers."

Sergeant Reyner saluted, noting this in his mind. The Rangers were the most prestigious and famed unit in the NCR army, and many recruits joined with the intention of transferring to the Rangers for the best and most exciting assignments. "Thanks for the offer sir, can't say for some of my men, but I'd reckon I'll stay first Recon."

Hanlon, instead of being offended, simply slapped Reyner on the back. "Good to meet a man who knows where his loyalty lies, but my offer stands. God knows the Rangers can't recruit from regular army, with all those REMFs."

"Morales I think, is the one you should talk to. He's expressed interest in joining the Rangers."

Hanlon raised an eyebrow. "That so? Well I'll have to see. The Chief wanted a platoon, but I'll see if I can sweet talk her to accept individual recruits."

Reyner chuckled quietly as he heard this, Rangers were always on the lookout to actively recruit the best men, to the detriment of regular army and recon units around them.

As he turned, he saw PFC Wright waving at him from his vantage point on the rooftop.

Sighing, Reyner picked up the shortrange radio.

"Report Wright, anything on your front?" Reyner aske.d

"Not yet sergeant, but Morales is wondering whether we'll need to take part in the assault."

Eager son of a bitch wasn't he? Hanlon thought, then nodded. "If the situation calls for it, I'll request for Recon to join us, but for now stay at your post."

"You got that Private?" Sergeant Reyner replied through the radio.

"Sir, but I'll prep some grenades just in case."

"Grenades?" Sergeant Reyner deferred to Hanlon, but he shook his head."

"No private, there's no telling what kind of explosives they have stored in there. No, we go in swiftly and quietly. I don't want to set off anything that might level half the city."

Even at the distance between the two buildings, Reyner could see PFC Wright gave disappointed look on his face, but he picked up his sniper rifle and side arm and focused his sights on the Hotel door.

Any day now…

Brotherhood Chapter Bunker, Edge of Mojave Wasteland

The briefing room in the bunker fell silent as Elder Elijah brought the news of the briefing from Maxson bunker to his men. Several seemed in a daze that the High Elder would attempt something so large and unprecedented. Some Paladins, such as Hardin, were eager for the fight, but the majority remained silent, the shock still setting in.

Elijah quickly pushed his own feelings aside, trusting in the judgment of the High Elder. It had been hours since they travelled from Maxson bunker, using one of the stolen Vertibirds that the Brotherhood had salvaged from the Enclave, and both Elder Elijah and Paladin McNamara were exhausted.

"And that is what we are facing my friends." Elijah continued "A war of unprecedented scale and ferocity, but one which the Brotherhood must win."

It was a hard fact to stomach for some, who had joined in the punitive expedition to Navarro, fighting alongside the Shi and NCR against the Enclave, and now they were being asked to attack their former comrades in arms.

The majority however, had never heard of the NCR, having spent their time underground. They were apprehensive, but nevertheless, excited at the prospect of leaving for the surface and getting combat experience.

"My knights stand by you, Elder Elijah, we will crush our enemies and bring glory and honor to the Mojave chapter." Elijah turned to see Edgar Hardin, one of his top Paladins already dressed in battle gear. Behind him, his platoon of Brotherhood knights in T51b armor followed, armed to the teeth with plasma rifles, gatling lasers and incinerators.

"As always my friend, your support is welcome." Elder Elijah smiled, then turned to his scribes and initiates. "This is a challenge greater than any we have faced, so when the time comes, I want each of you to remain within the safety of the bunker. Please know that I do not mean this as an insult, but it is for your safety."

The scribes, many of them still young and inexperienced, turned to Elijah as something of a father figure, some even calling him 'Father' Elijah. As he spoke, he adopted the paternal tone of a parent. Authoritative, caring, protective.

"In the years I have known you, I have come to respect and care for you as if you were my own family. But that isn't far from the truth Brothers and Sisters, We are a family. When I look into the eyes of each and every one of you, I see the future. I see hope."

Elijah turned to his scribes, several dozen of them, some new and young, some old.

"I know each of you is as strong as any warrior of our chapter, but if we lose you, we lose everything. Although we are descended from a military organization, we are ultimately the keepers of knowledge. And the scribes are where the knowledge of the Brotherhood rests. No matter what happens, we need you to live on and carry on the sacred work.

Almost as one, the scribes nodded solemnly, while Head Scribe Taggert stepped up. "We will do as you ask Elder."

"As I know you would old friend." Elijah smiled softly, then turned to the rest of his beloved chapter.

"Friends, as you know, Paladin General Sword is in charge of military operations. I will nominate a Paladin commander to liason with him and coordinate the war effort. In that task, I will entrust Star Paladin McNamara."

Elder Elijah turned to Nolan, who was shocked by this pronouncement, some of the Paladins, including Hardin, simply stared quietly, trying hard to hid his discomfort. Any murmurs or grumbles were quickly extinguished as the elder produced his prize. In Elijah's hand, was the ceremonial garments that had been blessed by Maxson himself.

"Paladin McNamara, you are our Paladin Commander. I entrust the lives of our brothers, sisters and family to you. You've come a long way in the years that I've known you and you've earned this. I know you'll make us proud." He then draped the ceremonial cape of all Brotherhood commanders over McNamara's armor, emblazoned with the sword and wings of the Brotherhood, the blue silk flowing behind his armor that gave each Paladin Commander the aura of authority and command.

Visibly shaken, Nolan gathered his courage and gave a formal military salute. "I will lead us to victory, Elder Elijah."

"Then it is done." Elijah smiled. "Although there is war, we must not waver in our commitment to bringing in technology that will one day better the wasteland. I expect each and every one of you to work twice as hard now that our brave warriors are fighting elsewhere for our freedom and future."

McNamara, fully assuming his role as Paladin Commander, simply put on his power armored helmet, cloaking his visage behind the face of steel that made all their enemies tremble.

Several Paladins jumped forward to the podium, saluting and shaking hands with Nolan. Paladin Vincent Santangelo, the Head Paladin of the guild, saluted his friend cheerfully. "Congradulations Nolan, this is a long time coming."

Now, it was time for the new Paladin Commander to speak.

"Thank you my friends, my brothers." McNamara said, his voice trembled with intoxication of the passion and excitement of the moment. "It will be an honor to lead you to glory and to battle. In the name of the High Elder, we go to War! To Arms!"

"To victory! In the name of Maxson! Glory to the Brotherhood!" The Paladins in the room roared, raising their rifles high in the air.

Maxson Bunker, Brotherhood of Steel HQ

The low roar of fusion powered Vertibird engines spread throughout the tarmac, blowing clouds of dust and unsettling anything that wasn't properly secured. Men and women rushed, some in pilots uniforms, others in full grade power armor, all had their chapters to report to, and the Elders had to organize their chapters for the coming offensive.

Below in the bunker, High Elder Maxson began the final preparations for the next phase of his plan. General Brixley and her squad of knights were to be in charge of Maxson bunker while everything else was being moved to the Lost Hills bunker. Situated strategically in the middle of the core region, Elder Maxson decided it was the best place to coordinate his forces.

As he stepped onto the tarmac, he wondered whether his decision was the right one after all….

He still remembered the face of his beloved son, even as he sent him away all those days ago.

"Father, I won't leave your side. I will stay and see this through with you to the end."

Those words had almost brought tears of pride in his eyes. He had witnessed the marriage of his son to his daughter-in-law. The newly wed Jonathan and Jessica Maxson. It was a historic day, a proud day. Where Maxson finally had the confirmation that his line would live on, that the dynasty and glory of the Brotherhood would survive another generation. He had watched his son all his life, from the troublemaking boy to the upstart teenager. Now, he was ready to let go.

"My son." High Elder Maxson tightly gripped the shoulder of his son, a fully ranked Paladin.

"We are about to embark on the greatest journey of the Brotherhood, one that will either be our destruction or result in our Brotherhood being reborn anew.

"There are great risks here, if we should fall here, you will need to start anew in the East and with your own family in time. Paladin Owyn Lyons isn't the most obedient of my commanders, he questions my orders too much," He chuckled at that thought, "But he is resourceful. You and Jessica will be safe with him. Once you locate the Capital and its armories, send me a signal to know you are safe, then you can send whatever bounties you find back to us to aid our war. That is how you can help me."

"We are the last of our family son, the end of a great line that led the remnants of humanity out the dark. It is our sacred duty to see this journey to the end. And I must see it here in the west. Your future is in the East. I know you will make us proud."

"Sir!"

Another voice snapped him out of the day dream, and High Elder Maxson turned to see General Andrea Brixley saluting him, her squadron of knights in tow.

"Preparations are ready for departure sir, all Elders have made it back to their bunkers safely."

Maxson nodded, "Then Steel be with you General. I will contact you from Lost Hills once this conflict is settled."

"Steel preserve you as well High Elder." Jeremy Maxson saluted his subordinate, even as he stepped into the platform of the Vertibird that began the steady upward climb into the Wasteland's night sky.

HUB – Maltese Falcon, 3:05 am

Kane Doherty, one of the most respected and influential crime bosses in the Hub, watched with displeasure as he saw some of his guards lying in drunken heaps on the street. Good help was so hard to find these days, but bad help was easy enough to get rid of. He had just gotten back from the meeting with his contact. The gears were in motion for something big throwing down in the Hub, and he intended for the Underground to profit from it. The details were sketch, but the promise of the old power his great grand daddy used to enjoy, having cops fearfully avoiding his men in the streets, having the greedy merchants eating out of his hand for protection while he ran the town. He couldn't wait.

Even in the dead of night, the Maltese Falcon resembled a combination of a nightclub and bar of old times, dozens of refugees, traders, soldiers of different races, creeds and occupations huddled together, protected in their safe haven in the wastes. Having lived another day, the drug addicts, wastelanders, mercenaries, slavers all drowned their sorrows and accomplishments in the communal pool of alcohol and jet. No one even noticed as Kane walked past the roaring crowd, entering into the underground bunker of his shop.

Caleb, an old time mercenary sporting an eyepatch, downed a pint next to a super mutant, both downing their drinks within seconds, having put forth a bet that any normal human could outdrink their bulkier counterparts two to one. The assembled mercenaries cheered, raising their glasses. Most of the soldiers resembled ragtag militia with impromptu armor and fatigues.

The bartender, a balding heavyset man, opened up another crate of captured supplies. The successful raids of the past months had been a great boon to the Underground, and most importantly, to the liquor store.

"A toast!" Caleb, the veteran laughed drunkenly "to living beyond mere survival!"

"To living!" The group shouted, clinking glasses and downing drinks.

Outside, away from all the celebrations, several dozen vigilant militia replaced the inept guards on watch. With the NCR coming into town seeking annexation, they were on high alert, armed to the teeth with pre-war assault rifles.

The merc leader Harvings plopped back on the folding camp chair they had salvaged from a pre-war department store, humming to himself as he and his squad of thirty other men kept a watch on the downtown area.

The peaceful, dull moment was soon broken however.

"Guys!" Harvings eyed the newbie in the outfit. Annoyed as he shouted, gasping, as he ran to the street barricade "You're not going to believe what I found-"

"Calm down blooper," Harvings interrupted. "You want to wake every damn NCR ranger and Cop in the area?"

The Merc composed himself, clearing his throat.

"Sorry, I just...found something new while scavenging."

"What is that private?"

"Dunno, I've...never seen anything like it."

"You found some porn then kid?" One of the veterans burst out laughing, while the private's face flushed red.

"Even better sir." The kid grinned reached into his back pocket, pulling out two bottles of whiskey. Before Sergeant Harvings could even congratulate the young man, a pair of neat holes were punched in his face. One through his nasal cavity, another through his eyes. Two thin lines of blood trickled down from his face, and the man collapsed on his feet.

The private, and several of the nearby militia were soon down as well, suffering the same fates.

"Wave goodbye to your head mate" PFC Wright smirked as he propped his hunting rifle across the ledger of the roof.

"Good hit, clean through his eyes." Private Morales said approvingly, spotting for his friend as he observed more bodies dropping through his binoculars.

"Alright Troopers, let's show these fuckers how the Bear does business!" Ranger Hanlon said over the radio. "Time for some indiscriminate Justice."

The Rangers in the streets and alleyways nodded. And within seconds, the streets blazed with heavy gunfire as Rangers, and NCR Troopers poured every manner of bullet and explosive into the Maltese Falcon. The gunshots echoing into the night.

"What the fuck?" was all Caleb could say as every window and glass shattered within the vicinity. The super mutant, whom he had been drinking with just now, simply had his head explode into a cloud of blood and bone. The whiskey bottle he held shattered to pieces. Screams and shouts echoed the bar as militia and mercenaries scrambled behind tables, counters, anything that provided cover, and unholstering their weapons.

Though he was drunk, Caleb had enough sense to pull out his assault rifle, firing into the darkness.

Two more mercenaries stood up to head to the windows, but their heads simply exploded when they showed up from cover. Snipers. Whoever these guys were, they were good.

Another explosion shook the walls, shaking loose soot and plaster that bounced off his leather armor. Three more men fell near the front door as dark, heavily armored soldiers ran into the room, blasting everything in sight.

"It's the NCR! Fuck, it's the NCR!" One of the mercs shouted, just as his chest exploded from a sniper rifle round.

"Let 'em have it!"

Gunfire poured down from the surrounding buildings and streets as Bravo company and first recon decimated the militia and mercenaries outside the Falcon. Several dived for cover behind the street barricades while others fired blindly into the rooftops of the surrounding buildings.

By that time however, the NCR ranger's and the shock troops had assaulted as two platoons, assuming cover and fire tactics that swept the street clean of hostiles. First Recon meanwhile, had a clear view from the broken windows and doorways into the bar, firing at any hostiles with weapons. Several terrified drunkards and civilians made a beeline for the exit, running into the streets. The Rangers left them alone, focusing on the determined bank of mercs that created an impromptu barricade from tables and chairs in the bar.

The militia in the street had no chance, having already been flanked by enfilade fire from the surrounding buildings, they died to a man where they stood.

The rifle snapped back for Sergeant Reyner as he fired again, hitting a man square in the chest as he ran for the cover of an alleyway. The militia were armed with a variety of weapons, assault rifles, shotguns, explosives, but half didn't get the chance to use it, having been swept in the first wave of gunfire.

Ranger Hanlon meanwhile, kept watch as the militia and mercenaries conceded the street, retreating to the barricade within the bar. With that, he radioed fourth and fifth platoon to move into the building itself. Two more platoons covered the rear and side entrances to the building, no one was getting in, or out. Not until Kane was dealt with.

Caleb felt the kick of his assault rifle as he poured more fire through the door. The few surviving men left had the wherewithal to stack the bar tables together as a makeshift barricade. But even these were useless against the armor piercing rounds the snipers fired. It did however, provide temporary cover from the short ranged guns the enemy employed

He turned again to face his attackers, breaking cover and scything the doorway with a burst of 5.56 mm rounds. An NCR trooper flopped to the floor, three holes in his chest, while behind him, a combat ranger with an auto shotgun blasted the table he hid behind.

Chips of wood and glass ripped through the air as more rangers emerged from behind them, having taken out the rearguard, more men streamed into the bar.

"Surrender! Throw down your weapons and get down on the ground! Hands over your heads!" Ranger Hanlon shouted as he ran into the room, trail carbine in hand.

Caleb stood there, stunned as he and five other remaining mercs were suddenly surrounded by over a dozen NCR troopers and rangers. More of them pouring into the building behind him, some wearing distinct red caps. Two to three rifles covered each man, and judging by the expressions of his comrades, they were realizing how hopeless further resistance was. Weapons started to begin lowering.

Caleb suddenly grinned mischieviously, whether it was from the jet, or the booze, he didn't know, but the fear was gone. Only inspriration.

Aw hell, I'm drunk, I'm washed up, and the boss will probably crucify me anyway for this….

"Hey NCR! Tell your bosses they can kiss my ass!" He lifted his rifle.

The mercs screamed defiance, and Hanlon had no time to give any orders, nor did he need to. The room filled with gunfire once more, and the last thing Caleb recalled was a shearing heat, some light. Then no more.

Shady Sands, NCR Capital 3:15 am

A pair of sizzling radscorpions lay in the desert sand. Evidence that despite the civilization that came to the wastelands, the land itself was still a brutal, dangerous place.

Knight Captain Aiden watched quietly through his binoculars, the lighted cityscape of Shady Sands. It had been years since he last visited the NCR capital from the San Francisco chapter with his brother, but seeing it again after all this time still amazed him, the sheer size and opulence of it all, while his own Brothers and Sisters lived in tiny underground bunkers.

Now, it was his job to bring it all down. Although San Francisco was Shi territory, that did not stop the Elder from donating fifty of their best operatives to support their fellow chapter inside the city.

Behind him, two platoons of specialized covert ops Brotherhood knights waited. Unlike the heavy shock troops employed by the Paladins and Knights, Shadow squad was special, its origins coming from the secret covert wars conducted against the Shi in the San Francisco area. Instead of heavy bulky T51B or T45d armor, each member of the squad was assigned modified He Guai armor. Pre-war Chinese stealth suits, and gauss rifles, capable of tearing apart even vehicles with their mass accelerator rounds. In the dead of night, they were all but invisible, and this was without their stealth fields turned on.

"Alright," Knight Captain Aiden turned to his subordinate, Knight-Sergeant Synder. "We're here, take squad Shadow and proceed to your assigned targets. We move on Paladin Commander Granger's signal."

Your will, Knight Captain." Synder saluted, then gestured with his hands towards the city.

Like the shadows they were named after, the Brotherhood knights simply vanished into the wasteland, the only clue of their presence were the light footsteps that made their way towards the unsuspecting city.

DUN DUN DUN!

Agent 94: Why yes that is the Hanlon from NV ;) probably a bit younger, but not that young. With four decades of combat experience hes already quite an aged veteran even in this story (27 years before NV) Hope my explanation on the maxson's satisfies you ;) as for Baja, i may mention it later on but in the scale of things, it isn't top priority.

Gasmaskedmook: Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it :) I agree, the depth of the universe was what really got me into FO after playing 3, so much potential for it. I personally want to see a fallout strategy game come out soon.

AnonOmous: Thanks! I'm just as eager to get to the war parts as you, as you can tell by my updates lol

Madara Uchiha: Thanks for reading :) hope the updates are to your liking!

To all following and reading, thanks! Next update to come soon hopefully.