Five Rangers set out. Down a crumbling building and west towards Rivet City. Following the Coastline, what remains of the Pontiac River, they embarked towards the ruins of D.C. Hoping to find reinforcements, food, and a break. One monument stood above the rest. The Washington Monument, pinnacle of the american dream, lies as a shadow of its former self. Large chunks of stone had been carved from the great buiding's sides. Leaving a skeleton, much like that of the city itself.

"What's this?" Fixit said. He was once a vault dweller that had come out when things went AWOL and the overseer went insane. "I just picked up a radio broadcast. Says 'Galaxy News Radio'. Got nothin' but static right now.'

"Try again in a mile or two." Said Smith, wondering if it was just a pre-war propaganda station on loop like many had thought the Enclave Station was. "And hope that is the only one."

They began on again, five soldiers driven by desperation, with nothing but a few clips each, their own personal weapons and black combat armor, and about a week's worth of food. A foul screach came from somewhere close. Then another, and another. Soon all that was audible was a symphony of shattered vocal chords.

"Uhh... Boss?" Cortez inquired, "What the hell was that?"

"Ferals..." Smith said under his breath, "Everybody weapons hot!"

A flood of rotten flesh, decaying teeth, and bulging eyes rushed them. Smith immediatly discharged three rounds from his combat shotgun into the heads of three of the ghouls. Their heads popped with each round as the shrapnel went through their skulls at the speed of sound. Cortez was unloading blindly into the crowd with his assualt rifle. Ms. Kendricks aptly pulled out her .44 revolver and popped skulls along with everybody else. And Fixit was lobbing grenades into the oncoming rush of zombified ghouls. For fifteen minutes the onslaught continued. It seemed as thought they were pouring out of the ground.

"Go! I'll hold them off! Get to Rivet City, find help!" LaCorva Said.

"Don't be an idiot Frenchie! We're in this together!" Cortez shouted.

"Go!" LaCorva then pulled out his Father's .357 revolver and a combat knife. He rushed into the crowd of ferals. Limb after limb came flying out of the circle that was quickly forming around him.

"You all heard him! Get moving!" Smith shouted. As they ran off, he chanced a glimsp back. A ghoul jumped and grabbed onto his back. LaCorva swung him off then discharged a round into it's head. More jumped and clinched on wherever they could manage. Their eyes met, and that second turned into an eternity. LaCorva smiled as a Feral put it's hand under his chin, and pulled. The flesh around the Frenchman's neck began to twist, buckle, and tear. A second later, his head lie upon the ground, and the Ferals began a feast on his fallen body.

"Bastards." Smith whispered, a tear forming in his eye. "Keep moving! We can't be around when they finish with him!" And so they ran. They ran and ran until they couldn't anymore. They made it about a mile away before they had to stop.

"Okay... okay, I think we're good." Cortez said, trying to catch his breath. "Dammit. They got LaCorva. Poor bastard."

"All right... let's set up camp here. We each take turns for firewatch. Four hour shifts. Are we clear?" Smith commanded.

"Yes sir." the rest said, unified. The night passed with only occasional bouts of weapons fire and death. They rose and set out at about 06:00, slowly moving towards the festering hell-hole that was Washington D.C. The path that lead up to the border of the Capital Wasteland was mostly clear after that. Besides for a few more ferals or raiders, the path seemed rather untraveled. Now it was quite clear why that was.

"I think that big boat right there is Rivet City." Cortez said. "No way to know for sure, though since... Well, you know."

"Better try anyway." Smith said. The big aircraft carrier had just come into view. From a distance it just looks like a boat that has been torn in half. That is exactly what it is, but it didn't look like it was the least bit habitable. As they approached even further, however, there looked to be many armed guards strolling about on the platform of the beached behemoth, showing a definent sign of civilization. "Only a few more miles to go."

After the long walk, they had finally reached the platform rising up to the boat. Smith hit the intercom. "Please wait while the bridge extends." A voice range out. The bridge started to swing out towards where it would rest and lock in place at the end of the platform they were standing on.

"So thirsty... please help me." A dry, cracked voice called out. Kendricks looked around to find a homeless man sitting behind them. He looked sickly and on the verge of death. "Water... Please I need water..."

"Will any water do?" Kendricks asked the man.

"No... It has to be clean. Please, I beg you, help me."

"Here have this purified water."

"Really? I can just have it? I can't pay you back."

"I insist. Take it." Kendricks said with a large smile on her face.

"Thank you... thank you so much... you've saved my life." He took the water and chugged the entire thing. He then fell back, laughing and sobbing. "Thank you so much stranger." Kendricks smiled and walked back to the group of three who were standing there watching the entire scene unfold. The bridge slowed and lokced in place with a *clang*. They all walked across the bridge to meet a man wearing armor not that different from their own.

"Hold it right there." The man said, pulling out a Chinese Assault Rifle, "State your business in Rivet City."

Smith stepped forward, "We seek refuge, ammunition, and food."

"Seek somewhere else."

"Please sir, our Vertibird was shot down about ten miles east of here. We've already lost six people." Smith pleaded, "We just need to recuperate, get some food and ammo, then we'll be on our way."

"All right. But I'm watching you." He looked around, "All of you."