January 17, 2282
Liam McPherson stood in a room with the others who had been assigned to Star-Paladin Gunny to assist with training new recruits. He wore loose fitting athletic clothing, looser still after the weight he had lost recovering from his wounds. He had been able to make it across the Citadel without requiring crutches, which was a point of personal pride for McPherson. Slowly, but surely, he was recovering. Soon, he hoped, he'd be cleared to resume some sort of physical activity and begin preparing to return to the Pride. Being separated from his comrades and forced to sit on the sidelines made him feel worse than useless. Gunny entering the room drew McPherson from his thoughts, eyes snapping to where the Star-Paladin had strode, at the head of the room.
"So the Sentinel…excuse me, the Elder," he began, drawing a round of laughter from the room. Referring to Sarah as the Elder was taking some getting used to, especially in light of her only being 30 years old. "The Elder has assigned all of you to assist me with Basic Training for the group of recruits we'll be receiving shortly. All of you are experienced," he continued, looking around the room as he did, "so I don't feel I need to reiterate how important it is that we train these recruits to a standard that won't get people killed when they leave our care. What I wanted to do today was gather your ideas and assign roles for training, since this will be the biggest group of recruits we've ever taken at one time," Gunny finished.
"How many should we expect to receive?" one of the other members of the group asked.
"I was told we're capping this recruitment drive at 45," Gunny replied. "So let's speak freely. What'd you all think?" he asked. McPherson remained silent, leaning against a wall to help support his weight and take some stress off his body.
"Make it clear that this isn't a game or a ride to get food and shelter," one of the men said. "Make them get with the program from as soon as they arrive," he continued. Gunny nodded at the suggestion.
"I agree. I want to get a group of you ready, say four of you. As soon as they arrive and we have them formed up go to work on them. Scream, yell, make them do pushups. Whatever you need to do to get them a little shook up and paying attention," he replied.
"I'll be pretty useless for leading PT," McPherson spoke, from where he was standing. "I still haven't been cleared to return to full duty," he continued. Gunny looked at him before responding.
"That's fine, McPherson. I was thinking we'd come in after the others get them a little run down. How do you feel about taking charge of some of the instruction? Get them familiarized with drill commands, teach them about weapons, Brotherhood history. Stuff that can be taught without you having to get too physical," Gunny replied. McPherson grunted at the response.
"I can handle that, I suppose. Gonna be hard to not get in their face if some snot-nosed kid gives me lip, though," he answered, drawing a round of laughter from the room. Everyone present had spent years in the Brotherhood, and more than just McPherson and Gunny had either come from California or been born to parents that had made the trek from there. It seemed to Liam that Sarah had selected soldiers she knew had deep ties to the Brotherhood and its history, ones who would have a more vested interest in protecting what they saw as the integrity of their order.
"What should our uniforms be?" another man piped in.
"For you that are going to be our welcoming committee, duty uniforms. You've all been issued the new uniforms that are entering service, right? The ones Gallows found," Gunny replied. A general sound of confirmation went through the room. "That, then. Chest armor over it. Power Armor is too heavy to move in if we're going to be running around getting in these kid's faces," he explained. He was met by nods from most of those assembled. Turning his attention to McPherson, Gunny continued.
"For you and I, I was thinking our dress uniforms. If the others are gonna be our bad cops that scare the shit out of the recruits, I figure we'll play the role of teachers that give them something to aspire to," he said.
"I can do that. My uniform is already all set up from the promotion ceremony the other day," McPherson replied. Gunny nodded at him.
"Good. That and your soft cap will do. Make sure you wear your Order of Maxson, as well," he answered. McPherson shot a quizzical look at Gunny.
"Why? Seems like it would just get in the way," he asked.
"Gonna make a point to these kids right from the start that neither of us are anything to fuck with, in case they think we are just because we aren't getting in their faces," Gunny explained. McPherson couldn't help but have a quick smile flicker across his face.
"Well, hope it works. I really don't think Doc would be happy if I broke the rules he gave me to kick some Waster's ass," he said, drawing another round of laughter from the room, Gunny included. As the laughter died down, Gunny continued.
"Alright, so planning our training schedule…"
Sarah sat at the head of the table in the Great Hall, still vaguely uncomfortable filling the seat that had been her father's for so long. One affectation of being Elder that Sarah had refused to adopt was the wearing of traditional Elders robes. I'm still a soldier, God dammit, she thought to herself, as she waited for the morning briefing to begin. The room had begun to fill up, Scribe Rothchild moving to take his place in the seat next to her. Across the room, Sarah saw Colvin enter, followed closely by Glade and Kodiak; the three most senior members of the Pride in her absence. They nodded at her as they took their seats, a quiet acknowledgment between the group of them. Behind them came Star-Paladin Cross, making her way to the seat on the opposite side of Sarah from Rothchild. With the room full, and Sarah flanked by her most senior two advisors, she held up a hand, calling the room to attention.
"Alright, settle in everyone. Rothchild, do you want to begin?" she began, looking to the Head Scribe as she did. He nodded, before standing from his chair and walking to the front of the room.
"Tuesday, January 17. Sunrise at 0725, sunset at 1712. Daytime temperatures expected in the mid to high 60s, nighttime dropping into the 40s. High cloud cover, no precipitation predicted," he began, giving the daily weather report for the Paladins to plan around. "Elder, as you ordered, repairs have begun on the relay on the Washington Monument, using some of the communications arrays we've recovered from Aberdeen. The array just arrived to the Monument yesterday, so installation will begin today. We should be able to have GNR back up and on the air by the end of the day," Rothchild continued, drawing a nod of approval from Sarah.
"Good. Make sure we have word relayed to Three Dog as well," Sarah replied.
"It will be done," Rothchild replied. "Ingram reports that processing of the T-60 Power Armor at Adams is proceeding on pace. We're at 50% of the Chapter that are trained in the use of Power Armor being issued the T-60. As we phase it in, we've begun moving the old T-45d suits into repair and maintenance. There was an idea going around that we could use them to teach the new Initiates and Aspirants how to use Power Armor," he continued.
"That would work," Sarah mused out loud. "Have we finalized our recruitment drive?"
"Yes, Elder. Testing was conducted over the past week at Rivet City. We've selected 45 candidates we believe have the qualities necessary to join the Brotherhood," Rothchild answered.
"Alright. Gunny, make sure your people are ready to receive them," Sarah replied, looking at the Star-Paladin as she did.
"We're ready to go, Elder," Gunny said.
"Anything else, Rothchild?" Sarah asked, turning her attention back to the Scribe.
"That was it for me, Elder," he answered, returning to his seat. Sarah stood from hers, walking to the front of the room.
"Paladin Brandis' patrol made contact with Talon Company mercenaries last night," Sarah began. The collected leadership in the Great Hall shifted in their seats, some leaning forward, waiting to hear greater details. "It was the first time the T-60 was used in combat. Results were extremely promising. We took two KIA, Initiates in combat armor. Knight Maxson took several rounds to his torso, but none penetrated his Power Armor," she continued, drawing a murmur from the room. "Our patrol routed the Talon Company element. It would seem that the T-60 exceeds our hopes and expectations in terms of performance," she finished.
"Did Brandis report on how his soldiers performed?" Colvin piped up from where he sat, with the other senior Paladins from the Pride.
"High marks for all of them. Knights Sanders and Cutler essentially held off one side of the ambush by themselves. Knight Maxson was the first to recognize that it was an L-shaped ambush and led the Initiates and Aspirants forward, stopped the Talon Company from closing in on them and drove that side of the ambush from the field," Sarah answered. Another murmur, this one of approval, went through the room as Colvin smiled widely.
"That's my boy," he said, being met with fist-bumps from Kodiak and Glade. Sarah suppressed a smile at that.
"The ambush was in the vicinity of where Paladin McPherson's patrol was ambushed. We know Talon Company has access to AP ammunition, so the fact that the T-60 stood up to it certainly helps," she continued. "That was the majority of what I have for you all. Floor is open if any of you had anything to add." Colvin raised his hand, waiting for Sarah to acknowledge him. "Paladin Colvin, you have the floor," she said in acknowledgment. Colvin stood from his chair, remaining in place and looking at Sarah.
"With the amount of contact we've been taking, particularly in the area that McPherson and Brandis were ambushed in, the group of us," he began, gesturing at Kodiak and Glade as he did, "have been discussing our strategy. With your permission, I'd like to begin changing the way the Pride operates." Sarah raised an eyebrow at him, an inquisitive look on her face.
"Continue, Paladin," she said. Colvin nodded at her in response.
"Thank you, Elder. The three of us feel that the Pride's abilities are being wasted if we're just going to conduct routine patrols and movements to contact. That's what the majority of the line companies are for. We felt that the Pride should get back to our roots-used as an elite strike team. Collect intelligence on enemy movements, locations, leadership and use us to disrupt them. We have to take the initiative back from Talon Company or we're just going to continue getting pot-shotted and taking casualties in ambushes." Sarah thought for a moment before responding.
"I like it, Colvin. You're right, we are at enough manpower now to not need the Pride bolstering the line companies' strength. You have my permission, Paladins," she replied, looking to the group standing with Colvin. "Come up with a plan of action for the Pride, have it to me today. Is Gallows still at the Citadel?"
"Negative, Elder. He's on a short range scouting patrol, making the rounds. We expect him back within the week," Colvin replied.
"When he returns fill him in. He'll be important for identifying targets for the Pride. We're beginning to expand our intelligence gathering apparatus for the area as well, should hopefully give us more details on who we're fighting and where they're operating from," Sarah said, before continuing. "Does anyone else have anything?" she asked, looking at a room as the members of the Pride returned to their seats. The room remained silent in the face of Sarah's question.
"Very well, then. Let's start the day. Ad Victoriam," she said, the room replying in kind over the sound of chairs shuffling on the floor; the assembled leadership moving to leave and go about their duties. As they filed out, Sarah shot a look at Rothchild.
"Rothchild, stay. There's something I wanted to discuss with you," she said. He nodded at her, waiting for the room to end before speaking.
"What is it, Sarah?" he asked, dropping the formality in private.
"The radio arrays we found at Aberdeen. They're capable of mounting long-range communications, correct?" Rothchild raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her question.
"Yes, they are. Why do you ask?" Sarah messed up her face in a look of consternation before responding.
"I've been turning it over in my head. Back when he was still here, still working with us-John Thompson told me about a place to the north, called the Commonwealth. He said it was around Boston, and that there was an organization there, called the Institute, that had high levels of technology. High enough that they can produce lifelike robots, indistinguishable from an actual human," she explained. A look of shock crossed Rothchild's face at that.
"That's certainly alarming, if it's the case. What makes you bring this up, Sarah?" he asked, a concerned tone to his voice.
"We would need to discuss practicalities. But I'm considering the viability of sending a long range reconnaissance mission to this Commonwealth. We would need volunteers for it, obviously," she explained.
"You want to send troops all the way to the Boston area?" Rothchild asked, almost disbelieving.
"Not a large contingent. Just enough to observe the area, see if there's anything up north we need to be worried about," she said.
"I can certainly have my Scribes begin studying the feasibility of doing it," Rothchild replied. "Take a look at the radio arrays we've recovered, see how we'd need to calibrate them and if we can use it to transmit towards Boston. We'd also need to address transportation and supply for the recon teams," he continued.
"Do it, then. Have them do their analysis and report back to me. And report to me today when we have the GNR relay up and running," Sarah commanded.
"It'll be done, Elder," Rothchild replied. "Do you need anything else from me?"
"No, that was it. Keep me up to date on what your Scribes come up with," Sarah said. Wordlessly, Rothchild nodded at her and took his leave of the room, leaving Sarah with her thoughts.
Being Elder sucks, she quietly thought. Sighing, Sarah set off for her quarters, quietly longing for the days when her life consisted of shooting Super Mutants, instead of killing paperwork.
John sat next to Emily on the steps of a government building near the Halls of Congress, enjoying the warm evening air and the quiet hum of people in the area. The plaza in front of them was, as predicted by Emily, crowded; a long line leading from the plaza and into the Halls of Congress, where President Kimball still lay in state. Mourners filed by at all hours of the day, paying their respects to the slain NCR President. In the middle of the plaza, softly illuminated, was the statue Emily had mentioned-Albert Cole, the Vault Dweller from Vault 13 who had indirectly played a role in the founding of the NCR when he helped protect Shady Sands from raiders. Outside of the ruins of D.C., John had never seen any sort of monument to compare to the statue.
"Yeah, I'm totally giving Yudhajit shit about this," he quietly said, drawing a laugh from Emily.
"So what do you think of Shady Sands?" she asked in reply.
"I like it. A lot, actually, more than I thought I would," John answered. "It seems like it could be a good place to live."
"I liked living here," Emily replied.
"Are you sad to be leaving it?" John asked. Emily thought for a moment before responding.
"Sad? No, that's not the word. Melancholy, maybe? Like there's every chance that I'll never see this place again. I've lived here for close to 20 years. It's strange to think that I may never sit on these steps, never go to the bar with my friends ever again," she explained.
"You sure you want to do this?" John asked.
"Yeah," Emily responded, sighing. "As much as I love it, I was just going through the motions here, after Achilles died. I need a break from it, somewhere to start again and focus on other things."
"You do realize that the Capital Wasteland is a total hellhole compared to the NCR, right? I really can't stress that enough," John said. Emily let out a short laugh at that.
"Yeah, I get that, John. It's not the comforts that concern me. I just need to have some sort of goal, not just be spinning my wheels," she answered.
"I understand that. I was doing the same thing in Megaton before Fawkes came back and I decided to head here," he replied.
"You two certainly are an unlikely duo," Emily said, smiling. A smile crossed John's face as he leaned his head back against the pillar he was seated next to.
"We were an unusual group, the four of us. But Fawkes is more human than most of the people I've met in the Wasteland. I admire him, really," he explained. Emily raised an eyebrow at him.
"Why's that?" she asked.
"The strength of will and character it took for him to maintain his sanity. The strain of FEV that existed in the Capital Wasteland isn't like the one that the Master used out here," he answered. In the time he had been in the NCR and with Emily, she had explained the history of the region to him-the war against the Master and his army, the war with the Enclave and finally the NCR and Brotherhood turning on each other in the aftermath. "I've only met two mutants in the Capital Wasteland that retained some form of sanity after being converted in Vault 87. Ironically, the two of them are two of the kindest beings I've met. I suppose if it doesn't drive you completely, homicidally insane, the FEV brings out the opposite extreme in character," he continued, laughing at the thought.
"He seems like a good friend," Emily replied. John grunted at that.
"He is. I'm lucky he's on my side," he answered.
"What about the other two that you mentioned?" Emily asked, continuing with the line of conversation.
"Who?" John began, before realizing what she meant. "Oh, Charon and Clover? They're…different. They're good allies and friends, I suppose, as well. Charon more than Clover," he continued.
"That's not the first time you've mentioned her," Emily replied. John cocked an eyebrow at her response.
"Who, Clover?" Emily nodded at him. "She's completely unstable, but it's not her fault. The way she was treated and brainwashed would make anyone crazy," John explained. "It took forever to break down and replace her mental conditioning." Emily narrowed her eyes at his response.
"What do you mean by 'replace'," she asked.
"I got the treeminders in Oasis to help me deprogram her after I got her out of Paradise Falls. When they did, I had them insert some different suggestions, replace parts of the programming the slavers had given her." Emily's jaw partially dropped at that.
"John, you just replaced her previous brainwashing with your own kind of it?" she asked, aghast. He shot her a confused look.
"What? No…I mean I guess technically yes, but it wasn't like that. It was just things so she wouldn't feel the same total loyalty to whoever held her contract, and to make sure that if I ever died she'd protect Vault 101." Emily looked vaguely horrified.
"John, that's horrible. You can't just play games with people's brains!" she said.
"I was trying to help her," he answered, confused at her outrage.
"You don't help by just making someone loyal to your wishes instead!" Emily replied, her anger increasing. For the first time since they had met, Emily was taken aback by his actions. John just shrugged at her.
"It's a moot point. I freed her from my service after we had finished what we set out to do. She went south, far away from the Capital Wasteland and anything I taught her," he replied, a surly tone to his voice. Rolling her eyes, Emily looked away.
"Silver linings," she muttered, looking into the distance for a moment before standing. "Whatever. Let's head back to our place. We've gotta get up early to head back to the Boneyard tomorrow," she said, not waiting for a response before walking away.
Knight Wilks, commander of the Brotherhood detachment guarding the GNR station, walked up the stairs into Three Dog's dual recording studio/living quarters. Ever since the radio station had been all but knocked off the air, the normally energetic DJ had been despondent, listless with the inability to broadcast to the Wasteland. Wilks was glad to be delivering news he was sure would cheer up the man. As Wilks took the last step and walked into the recording area, Three Dog looked up.
"Got some good news for you," Wilks began, smiling as he did.
"What's up?" Three Dog asked, in his unmistakable voice.
"We got the radio relay on the Washington Monument fixed. You're back on the air. So no more slacking around here, get back to work!" Wilks said, laughing as he did. Three Dog's jaw dropped, a flabbergasted look on his face.
"You're shitting me. Seriously?" Wilks nodded in confirmation to his question. "You guys are fuckin' life savers!" Three Dog practically yelled, leaping from his seat and racing to embrace the Knight. Wilks, slightly taken aback, lightly patted Three Dog on the back.
"You're welcome, buddy…" the Knight said, trailing off as Three Dog stepped away.
"I gotta get a message recorded and back on the air, let the people know we're back!" Without sparing Wilks a second look, Three Dog raced over to his recording booth, leaning into his microphone and hitting the record button.
Rothchild and Colvin sat in the office Sarah now occupied, her personal effects still being moved from the Den into her new quarters that were reserved for the Elder.
"It's done. GNR will be back on the air," Rothchild said, beaming as he did. Sarah smiled at him.
"Excellent. Excellent work by your team, Rothchild. Pass on my compliments to them on their hard work," she replied. Rothchild nodded at her compliment as she turned her attention to Colvin.
"So, a plan for the Pride. Got one?" she asked.
"I do. Came up with it along with Glade and Kodiak. We decided to bring Tristan back into the fold as well. He was being wasted in the line companies," Colvin began.
"Fair enough," Sarah replied. "Fill me in. What're your ideas?"
"We know from Gallows reports and our own engagements that Talon Company and Reilly's Rangers have put aside their differences to fight us. We can raid both, disrupt their leadership," Colvin began. Sarah paused for a moment, contemplating.
"Attacking Talon Company at the Fort? Dangerous proposition with a unit as small as the Pride. I like it with Reilly's group, though. From what I remember of where their compound is, numbers won't make as much of a difference as they would out at Fort Bannister." Colvin nodded at her.
"That's what we thought. We contemplated moving on Megaton, too…" Sarah violently shook her head at that.
"Too many civilians. We're trying to win them to our side, not alienate them. We have to limit ourselves to going after strictly combatant targets," she replied. Before they could continue, the door to the office swung open. In it stood Gallows, entering without announcing himself and drawing looks from all present.
"Gallows? You're back early," Colvin began, as Gallows reached up, unlocking the helmet from his Power Armor and removing it, gently placing it on a chair next to him.
"Something to report?" Sarah asked, a hint of confusion in her voice. Gallows looked her squarely in the eye before reporting.
"Enclave," he began, all those present jolting upright in their seats at his words. "They're still around. They're who's supplying the Talon Company," he explained. Sarah stood up to look at Gallows in the face of his report.
"How certain are you? What did you see?" she demanded.
"I recognized a Vertibird that was not in our colors coming in low over the Wasteland. I followed it a short ways before setting up an overwatch to observe from a nearby cliff. It was the Enclave. One officer, a female, accompanied by two guards in Power Armor. It was clearly them, Elder. They were wearing Advanced Power Armor and the officer was in the olive green uniforms they wear," he explained, the edge to his voice only deepening the alarm those present felt. Gallows was as unflappable as they came. Sarah sat back down, color rushing from her cheeks. The collected group of them looked to have seen a ghost. Quickly composing herself, she looked to Rothchild and Colvin.
"This doesn't leave this room. They aren't overtly making a play on the Wasteland. We can't cause a panic in our ranks until we know more," she began, before turning her attention back to Gallows. "We were going to bring it up with you when you returned anyway, but for the time being you'll be running short range patrols and intel gathering in support of the Pride. Identify high-value targets for them, locations of enemy personnel and supplies for them to raid. Understood?" Gallows nodded before responding.
"Fort Bannister would seem to be a logical place to start," he replied. Sarah leaned back in her chair, briefly closing her eyes and refocusing herself before responding.
"Colvin, start coming up with a plan of action for Bannister. In the meantime, your raid on Reilly's compound is approved. Take the necessary steps to begin planning it," she said. Nodding, Colvin stood from his chair. Before he could leave, Sarah continued. "Also, Colvin?" she said, drawing his attention back to her.
"Yes, Elder?"
"After the Pride's leadership comes up with a plan, I need you to get me up to speed on the T-60 and its use." Colvin gave her a nod before saluting.
"Will do, ma'am. Ad Victoriam," he snapped, before turning to leave the room. Gallows took his leave with Colvin, leaving Sarah and Rothchild alone. As soon as the door closed, Sarah looked to the old Scribe.
"Well, shit," she began, drawing a laugh from the man.
"To say the least, Elder. Don't get carried away. Let's focus on what we can plan for now. If the Enclave does reappear, we'll confront them then. The Brotherhood has always been able to defeat the Enclave in the past. History always falls on the side of right," he said. Sarah quietly nodded at him before responding.
"Still. The Enclave? And Gallows' reports of Super Mutant activity. Three years of peace are vanishing in the blink of an eye," she said, trailing off. The silence that followed allowed her and the Scribe to ponder the implications of what they were facing.
Jackson Clancy was in a foul mood as he and his small escort approached Megaton. He had, in fact, been in a mood for the past day, since he had gotten word from his people about their disastrous ambush on the Brotherhood. While details were still unclear, one thing that was obvious was the Brotherhood making use of some new kind of Power Armor, something that the AP ammunition he had been supplied with by the Enclave was useless against. It was enough, he thought, to warrant him travelling to Megaton, warning Lucas Simms and trying to have a meeting called so that the group that were in opposition to the Brotherhood could discuss options. It was still another month until he would be resupplied by the Enclave; he would have no opportunity to pass the information onto them, or request heavier weapons, until that time.
It was midday when the group from Talon Company entered Megaton, their black combat armor doing nothing to protect them from the sun. While the temperatures were nowhere near as high as they'd get as summer approached, it was humid and warm enough to have each mercenary sweating profusely. At the foot of the hill that formed the center of Megaton, Jackson saw Lucas Simms, sitting in the shade provided by the Brass Lantern's patio and eating lunch. As they made their way to him, town residents clearing the way, Lucas looked up, noticing them for the first time. Putting down his fork, he stood from his chair; hurriedly chewing his food and swallowing before Jackson arrived.
"Howdy, fellas," Lucas greeted, extending a hand to Jackson, which he accepted with a firm handshake. "Wasn't expecting to see you all so soon. Something goin' on?"
"It's an emergency, Lucas," Jackson began, being met with an alarmed look from the Sheriff. "I need you to get on the radio and get the others here if you can. Get Reilly, get Evan from Arefu and the group from 101, whoever can come. It's important," he explained, doing nothing to ease Lucas' alarmed expression.
"What the hell's up, Jack?" Lucas asked, the edge in his voice apparent.
"Brotherhood. Some of my men got into it with them last night. They've got some sort of new Power Armor, something different. The ammo my men got from the Outcasts was useless against them," he replied, continuing with his fabricated story regarding where they'd been supplied with the AP rounds from.
"Shit…" Lucas muttered, looking around the town absent mindedly before returning to Jackson. "Right. I'll get on the radio now then. You boys settle in, make yourselves comfortable. It'll take a while for everyone to arrive anyway," he said, before taking his leave to walk back to his house, where the radio they used for communications was kept. Running a hand over his brow to wipe away the thin layer of sweat, Jackson looked around the town and then to his men, and finally past them to the Brass Lantern. A drink would be good right about now.
October 23, 2077
Harrison had just finished playing the first round of pool that morning, the radio playing GNR as background noise, when he first realized something was wrong. An upbeat number had been playing when it was suddenly cut short, the flustered voice of the female DJ coming back on the air.
"I'm sorry to interrupt the music, folks, but it seems we have some breaking news coming in. Stand by…we're receiving at this hour reports of explosions, huge explosions and flashes of light. Also…we seem to have lost contact with our affiliate stations on the West Coast and in New York City…" A sinking feeling began forming in Harrison's stomach, one of premonition. Looking around the room, he saw expressions of confusion that were becoming fear. "It's happening. It's actually happening," Harrison bitterly thought to himself. In the distance, from outside the pool hall, he heard the sounds of air raid sirens coming to life.
"We have confirmed…again, confirmed reports of nuclear detonations in Pennsylvania and New York," the DJ said, before being cut off. In her place came the blaring tones of the Emergency Broadcast System. The room had exploded into noise around him. For some reason, completely in spite of himself, Harrison burst out laughing, drawing stares from the entire room. It had fallen quiet enough that they could hear what the Emergency Broadcast was saying.
"At 9:03 AM Eastern Daylight Time, NORAD detected the launch of long range missiles from the People's Republic of China. This is an attack warning. Repeat, this is an attack warning. This means an actual nuclear attack against this country has been detected. If you have reserved space in a Vault, proceed there now. If not, proceed to a fallout shelter now. Remain tuned to this channel for further important updates from the government…"
"Well, fuck," Harrison said.
"What do we do?!" one of the men in the room frantically asked. Harrison looked at him, completely nonplussed.
"Well, I dunno about you guys, but I don't have a space in a Vault," he replied. They looked at him in shock that he could be so nonchalant about the world ending.
"Neither do we! What do we do, Harrison?!" the man demanded. Harrison thought for a moment before replying.
"The Metro. That's our best bet. Grab all the food and water we can get and get down into the Metro, start following the lines as far out of the city as we can get," he said, going with the first idea that came to mind. He was met by nods of agreement from the room. He realized at that moment that the other men were looking to him to lead them. Turning his attention to the manager of the place, he spoke again. "You got a gun in here?" The man nodded, wide eyed and completely mute. "Give it to me," Harrison demanded. Wordlessly, the manager reached under the bar and pulled forth a double barreled shotgun and a box of shells. Harrison inspected it to make sure it was loaded before looking back to the group.
"Alright. Let's get the fuck out of here."
"So was the end of the world everything you thought it'd be?" Clover drawled, as Charon finished his recollection. The ghoul snickered at her question.
"I thought I'd have more time to go looting, honestly," he replied. "And what's with this newfound interest in my life story? You goin' soft on me, Clover?" he rasped. She rolled her eyes at his question.
"We're the only two left. I figure I might as well try to find something about you that I don't totally hate," she said, drawing an earnest laugh from Charon.
"At least you're honest, Clover," he said, his face as amused as a ghoul's could get. "Your turn, now. You never told me how the kid taught you to be good for anything besides blowjobs," he continued, meeting her sarcasm with his own.
"Aw, Charon. You think I'm good for more than blowjobs?" she asked, in an exaggeratedly sweet voice. He rolled his eyes at her.
Summer 2278
"Now breathe out, slowly," John whispered from where he lay, next to Clover, as she looked down the sights of the rifle. She did as he said, slowly exhaling. "Now, when you finish naturally exhaling-squeeze the trigger…now!" he whispered. Clover squeezed the trigger, the rifle kicking back into her shoulder. 200 meters away, the bullet from her rifle found its mark, hitting the target the Wanderer had set up for them to practice on.
"Good shot," he said. She looked over to him before replying.
"Thanks, sugar," she said. He was oblivious to the obvious flirting in her tone.
"So you feel comfortable with that?" he asked. "It's all pretty basic. Take a stable position. Have a good sight picture of your target. Control your breathing, don't hold your breath. Shoot naturally at the bottom of your exhale. And squeeze the trigger, don't pull or jerk it," he finished. She nodded at him.
"I got it, lover," she said, standing up from where they had been laying on the ground. The two of them were still in Oasis. Clover was beginning to think that the man was taking her recovery as a sort of vacation from dealing with the rest of the Wasteland. "Now…we gonna go to bed?" she asked, a sly smile crossing her face.
"Aaaaand you can stop right there, Clover," Charon said, holding up a hand. "Don't need to hear about you and the kid getting down in the woods." Clover threw her head back and let out a peal of laughter before responding.
"Aw, Charon, am I making you blush? I didn't think you had enough skin left," she said.
"Fuck you, Clover," Charon replied, pushing back and standing up from the table they were sitting at. "I'm supposed to meet with that group Simms put together today. Apparently those Talon assholes have something important to report," he continued.
"Right. I'll be rolling into Megaton later today. Try not to give the rest of them my name and address this time," she replied. They had already had a very heated discussion about Charon telling the group of leaders that he knew who the "ghost in the ruins" was and that it was a woman.
"No?" Charon asked. "I was thinking I would, maybe one or two of them would send you a birthday card. Don't want you to think you don't have friends," he replied.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Charon. I'm very popular," she said, as they moved to leave and go their separate ways. "I'll catch up with you in Megaton," she continued, Charon nodding at her in response.
"Damn, was hoping I'd be free of you for a few days," he said, as he walked away.
Arthur Maxson stood in one of the guard towers that had been built around the Brotherhood outpost that had been established over the previous months. Being promoted to Knight had not exempted him from standing guard, as the time dragged by on his multi-hour shift. He wore only his duty uniform and combat armor on his upper body, a helmet perched uncomfortably on his head. By his side was a laser rifle, the standard issue weapon he would carry when not in his Power Armor. Letting out a low sigh, Arthur mindlessly toggled the transmit button on his radio.
"I am so FUCKING bored," he said, more to himself than anyone else. A moment later the radio came to life, the sound of an agitated male voice coming over.
"Last calling station, identify yourself!" it said. Maxson stared at it in confusion for a moment before responding,
"I said I was fucking bored, not stupid," he replied, before setting the radio down. It exploded a moment later with a barrage of very colorful invective from the Paladin that was on-duty in the tactical operations center that night. Arthur smiled to himself at the man's impotent rage. Sometimes you just have to make your own happiness, he thought, before settling into a chair and looking out over the desolate ruins in front of him.
Liam McPherson looked at his dress uniform, hanging from the back of a door. Behind him he could hear Sarah moving around the room, putting things away before sitting down to eat. He ran a discerning eye over the uniform, looking for anything out of place. Although being a Drill Sergeant wasn't his choice, he still took pride in the responsibility and planned on setting a good example for the recruits that were joining the Brotherhood. Earlier in the day he had visited the barber, having his hair trimmed into a brutally short haircut, down to the skin on the sides and into an undercut on the right side of his head. On top, his dark hair was neatly combed, worn in a style that was common amongst the pre-war US Army.
McPherson was drawn from his inspection by the sound of Sarah's soft footsteps, padding across the floor towards him. A moment later, he felt her hand resting on his back.
"Everything ok?" she asked, leaning against him and wrapping her arms around his waist as she did. He reached down, squeezing her hand before looking over his shoulder at her.
"Yeah, just making sure everything is good when these new recruits show up. Since I'm still not cleared for full duty, Gunny has me wearing my dress uniform and trying to be an example to them," he explained.
"You'll do great," she whispered, lightly kissing his shoulder as she did. He smiled at her small sign of affection, pausing a moment before responding.
"I love you, Sarah," he said, looking her in the eye as he did. "I wouldn't be able to do any of this if I didn't have you," he continued. She looked at him, taking in his features, before responding.
"That's not true. You did it before you and I were together and were just as good," she said. He turned to face her, taking her hands in his.
"I mean being able to recover from being shot. You being there has really meant a lot, Sarah," he said. She smiled at him before responding.
"I love you too, Liam. You don't have anything to thank me for," she replied, reaching up to kiss him. "Now let's sit down and eat," she continued, leading him by the hand back to the kitchen table in her private quarters.
Summer 2278
"A reading from the Book of Revelation," John said, recalling the wording from memory. In the near distance the soft sound of water spilling into the Potomac River from Project Purity was audible. In front of him, surrounded by a circle of people, were two freshly filled graves. His father's and Janice Kaplinski's graves. Their bodies had been found shortly before in one of the sub-basements of the Jefferson Memorial by Brotherhood Scribes conducting repairs on the Purifier. Sarah, who stood across from John, had come to Megaton to tell him, along with Knight Colvin; standing beside John and helping him conduct the makeshift funeral service. John had conducted more than one funeral in his past life as a chaplain in Vault 101, but none that had prompted this level of numbness. He was reciting the Book of Revelation entirely from memory, not entirely conscious of his surroundings, distracted as he was by his thoughts.
"And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. And he that sat upon the throne said Behold, I make all things new. And he said unto me, Write: for these words are true and faithful," he continued, becoming more aware of his surroundings as he recited the passage. In his memories he could hear his father's voice reciting the passage to him, telling him about his mother, how it had been her favorite verse in the Bible.
"And he said unto me, it is done. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely," he finished. Revelation 21:6. The passage that had guided his parent's lives; the passage that had indirectly led him from the Vault and into the Capital Wasteland. The verse that saw him refuse President Eden's request to poison the Potomac River with the modified FEV. After a moment's silence, he spoke again, the words that always concluded funeral services in the Vault, the way he had been taught.
"Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen."
January 18, 2282
"You ok?" Emily asked, from where she sat alongside John. They had returned to the Boneyard that day, the trip to Shady Sands a success. In tow were two Followers who had volunteered to come East with them; an agriculture expert named Mark and an engineer, Ignacio; who were settling in at the Followers facility that John had been staying at. With little else to do than resume their daily routines while awaiting the veterans that had volunteered to join them on the trip East, John and Emily had opted to reintroduce themselves to their preferred bar in the Boneyard.
"Yeah, I'm fine," John replied, a hint of bitterness in his voice. He was several drinks deep and it was doing little to cause positive feelings at the memory of his father.
"You sure about that?" Emily prodded. She had known John long enough to recognize when his mood was turning dark; something that had not occurred frequently since he had been in the Boneyard and been clean of Med-X.
"Yeah. He was just short sighted. He didn't see the trees for the forest," John began. "He got so caught up in his dream and my mother's memory that he ignored the fact that the Overseer would lose his shit and take it out on me when he left the Vault. If it hadn't been for Amata, who knows what would have happened," he finished.
"What did Amata do?" Emily asked.
"Woke me up that day before security could get to me. And gave me a pistol she had stolen," John explained. "Lucky, too. Had to use it on some radroaches that had gotten loose when my dad escaped."
"Useful," Emily replied. "Should we call it a night? We both have stuff to do tomorrow," she continued, waving down the bartender as she did. John pushed back from the bar to stand up as she did.
"Sure. Was a long trip back here. Good to be back in the Boneyard, though," John said.
"Like the Boneyard more than Shady Sands?"
"Not more," John said, a contemplative tone to his voice. "I just know the Boneyard better. I like the life here," he finished. "Sometimes I wonder what life could be like here with Amata, where we could just be normal people."
"You sure a normal life is what you want?" Emily asked, as they left the bar and walked out into the warm evening air. All around, from the downtown of the rebuilding Boneyard, came the sounds of life. Life returning to normalcy throughout the NCR in the wake of Kimball's assassination, the week of mourning and the state funeral having ended.
"Could be a nice change of pace. Sometimes I miss how ordinary everything in the Vault was, before I ended up in the Wasteland," he replied.
"Fair enough point. The Wasteland certainly never lacks in excitement, it seems," Emily said, drawing a laugh from John.
"You have no idea, Emily."
"Operation Lion's Fury," Colvin began, standing at the head of the Great Hall. The space was largely empty, devoid of the crowd that convened there every morning. In their place sat only Sarah, Scribe Rothchild, Star-Paladin Cross, and Paladin Danse. The leadership of the Pride had formulated their plan for raiding Reilly's compound and stood as a group, prepared to explain the plan. "We have pre-existing intelligence for the area surrounding Reilly's compound and their activities recently. Tonight, in coordination with Paladin Danse's company," Colvin continued, gesturing at Danse as he did; "we insert via Vertibird. Danse's company secures the perimeter and prevents an escape of our primary targets. The Pride moves in on a capture-kill mission for the leadership of Reilly's Rangers. Our priority targets are: Reilly, Brick, Butcher, and Donovan. Those are the four most senior members of the organization and form their leadership. With them captured or killed, Reilly's operations should be crippled," Colvin finished. He was met with a moment's silence before Sarah spoke up.
"Have you coordinated with the Vertibird squadron at Adams?" she asked.
"Yes, Elder," Paladin Glade spoke up, taking over for Colvin. "We've coordinated with them and Danse to move in and secure the area. Knights Dusk and Gallows will provide long-range support and neutralize the exterior guards before we move on the building."
"What's the timeline look like?" Sarah continued in her line of questioning.
"Stage this afternoon at Adams. Danse's company is standing by to begin moving on your order. They have 35 T-60 suits issued and operational. The 60 remaining Initiates and Aspirants are equipped with the combat armor we've recovered from Aberdeen and laser rifles. They provide enough manpower to secure a perimeter and prevent any escape." Sarah contemplated for a moment before responding.
"Alright. Operation is a go. Begin necessary movement," she said. She was met with nods and looks of determination from the Pride.
"We'll be ready, Elder," Glade responded. Without a further word, they left the room, joined by Danse as they moved to prepare their soldiers.
Charon found himself again in the Brass Lantern, surrounded by the group that had responded to Jackson's call. Reilly and Donovan had just arrived, accompanied by a small escort, joining Susie and Gomez from Vault 101, Evan King from Arefu, and Doc Roe from Canterbury Commons. Lucas had joined them at the table in the restaurant, leaving Harden at home to monitor the radio as the evening fell.
"Wanna fill everyone in, Jackson?" Lucas began, looking to the Talon Company commander as he did. Jackson nodded at him before turning his attention to the rest of the room.
"Brotherhood's got something new, different sort of Power Armor. The ammo my boys got, the AP rounds, didn't do anything against it. They laid a perfect ambush and the Brotherhood was able to fight through it like it wasn't a thing," he began, being met by looks of consternation from the room.
"They say how different it was?" Reilly asked from where she sat.
"Yeah, said it was bigger than the old suits they had been wearing, bulkier. The old suits? The ammo my boys got tore through them. This new armor didn't even look like it felt the bullets. Not many of my boys survived," Jackson explained. There was a quiet murmur in the room, eyes cast downward, before Reilly spoke up.
"Sorry, Jackson. How many made it out?"
"Six," he replied. "Six out of 18. One of the Brotherhood's Knights just walked through my guys' fire, ignored it like he didn't feel it and cut them down with some sort of automatic laser. We're gonna have to figure out a way to deal with this," he replied.
"Maybe the ghost can tell us something," Evan King said, looking hopefully at Charon. The ghoul fought to not roll his eyes before responding.
"I'm sure she can. I'll see what I can find out from her," he replied.
"Sounds like about all we can do for now," Lucas said. "I'll be in touch with Sonora Cruz, tell her that our people are gonna focus on raider hunting. Might be best to avoid getting into it with the Brotherhood until we know what's going on with this new stuff they got," he concluded, being met with sounds of agreement from the room.
Colvin looked out the open side door of the Vertibird at the Capital Wasteland, flying past beneath them. In the near distance, faintly visible in the bright moonlight, he could make out the other Vertibirds that were part of the operation, carrying Paladin Danse's company to their assigned drop-off points to establish the security cordon around Reilly's compound. His Vertibird was full of the Pride, all armored in T-60 Power Armor, and most with their helmets temporarily removed for the flight. Over the radio set in his ear, Colvin could communicate with the other members of the Pride and the crew of the aircraft. From behind him, looking out the opposite door, he heard Glade speak up.
"Beats when we had to walk everywhere, huh?" he said. There was a round of quiet laughter at that; everyone preparing themselves mentally in their own way. From where she sat, against the wall of the Vertibird, Dusk inspected her rifle, running through a functions check and making sure the bolt was running smoothly. Gallows had left his helmet on, keeping his thoughts to himself. Glade, Colvin, Kodiak, and Tristan all had headsets on, occasionally breaking the silence with idle chatter or receiving updates from the pilots on their location. Colvin, for his part, had taken to reciting his preferred passages from Psalms, beginning with Psalm 144. Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight… The sight of the other Vertibirds breaking formation to proceed on their final approach drew Colvin from his thoughts. At that moment, the pilot came over the radio.
"Five minutes. Beginning final approach," he said. The Pride began stirring, members sitting up and idly adjusting, reaching for rifles and placing their helmets back on their Power Armor. Quickly, the aircraft began to descend, its rotors tilting up into a landing position. With every member of the Pride in Power Armor, the Vertibird didn't need to be set down for all the members to disembark. Hovering 20 feet over the ground, the crew chief came over the radio.
"Drop off point. Happy hunting. Go, go, go!" he called; the members of the Pride responding by jumping out the doors of the aircraft. They landed with force in the rubble covering their infiltration point, the T-60 absorbing the force and protecting them from harm.
"Report," Colvin commanded, over their radio link.
"Dusk."
"Glade."
"Kodiak."
"Tristan."
"Tomlinson."
"Gallows."
"All up," Colvin confirmed, satisfied that every member was operational for the task at hand. "Proceed on mission. Snipers, to your assigned overwatch. Assault team, let's move. Staggered column. Maintain spacing when we're moving through these ruins," he continued. Without a word, the assault element fell in on him and began moving forward, towards Reilly's compound. In his peripheral vision he could see Gallows and Dusk disappearing into the night, moving to where they would provide covering fire to the rest of the Pride.
Reilly was woken by the sound of the door to the common room bursting open. Instinctively, she jolted up, reaching for her rifle before realizing that it was Lucas Simms. Immediately following that realization came the observation that he looked frantic. Preempting any questions she had, the words came spilling out of his mouth.
"Reilly! Get up, come on! Something's going on, your people are on the radio!" Reilly leapt out of bed at that, the sounds of Donovan and the rest of her team coming to and moving to get dressed audible behind her.
"What the fuck, Lucas?" she asked, the urgency in her tone obvious.
"It just came through, Harden picked it up a minute ago. He's getting Jackson and the group from 101, something is wrong. Your people are being hit," he replied, before turning to run back to the radio at his house. Reilly followed closely behind, entering to be greeted by a frantic looking Harden Simms sitting at the radio, surrounded by a mixture of bleary eyed and alarmed members of the Talon Company and Vault 101.
"What's going on?!" Reilly demanded. Harden looked up at her, his eyes full of horror.
"It's the Brotherhood! They're hitting your compound," he said, jumping from his seat to allow Reilly access to the radio. The sounds of an intense firefight were audible as she clicked her transmitter live.
"This is Reilly. Someone report now!" she said, trying to remain calm and be understood over the radio. Butcher's voice came back from the other side.
"It's the Brotherhood, Reilly! They came from nowhere, they're taking the compound. Our weapons are useless against them. Brick is holding them with her Minigun, but she's gonna be out of ammo soon," came the response, like a punch to the gut for Reilly.
"Just get out, Butcher. Get as many of our people as you can and bail out, use the escape tunnels!"
"We'll make a try for it, Reilly. If we don't make it, kill some of these bastards for us. Butcher out," came the reply, the line reverting to nothing but the sounds of small arms and energy weapons fire. In a daze, Reilly stood, looking around the room to the group she was with. She was met with looks of shock and horror from Harden and the Vault 101 emissaries, and looks of pure anger from the Talon Company. Jackson spoke first.
"Harden, get back on the radio. Get on the Talon frequency and see if I have any men in the area that could assist," he ordered. Harden wordlessly nodded before taking his seat back, adjusting the radio as he did before putting the call for help out.
Colvin stood down a side hallway, taking cover from the woman with the Minigun as he communicated with the rest of his team.
"This is inconvenient. She's giving them time to respond," he said. They Pride had burst into the compound with shock completely on their side and had done severe damage to the disoriented mercenaries in the opening moments of the raid. With every passing second that they lost being pinned by the Minigun, the shock was lost and Reilly's people began to organize and offer resistance. Glade's voice came over the radio in response.
"I'm gonna lay some fire back at her," he replied, hoisting his newly acquired Gatling Laser as he did. "When I do, pop grenades down this hallway," he continued, moving into position. Without a further word, he spun up his Gatling, rolling into the hallway and unloading a withering barrage at the woman's position, followed by Tomlinson and Kodiak hurling frag grenades towards the room she was in. A moment later the grenades exploded, fragments peppering the walls alongside the Pride. Glade waved them out from cover, signaling that they were in the clear. Tomlinson moved forward, his laser rifle held at the ready, as they slowly moved in a column down the hallway. Entering the room they had thrown the grenades towards, they were greeted by the woman who had been wielding the Minigun. She was severely wounded, the blast from the grenades having left her on the verge of death. On the opposite side of the room, near a now destroyed radio, a man's body had fallen; the back of his skull all but blown off by the blast. The rasping breath of the woman drew Colvin's attention, turning to look in time to see Kodiak calmly raise his rifle and shoot her in the head, ending her life.
"Room clear," Colvin radioed.
"We've picked off a few runners out here," Dusk replied. "And Danse's men have engaged a few too."
"Roger," Colvin replied, before turning to the rest of the assault team. "You know what to do. Toss the room. Any intelligence, take it. And somebody get me a body count. We're gonna need to cross-reference it with what our intel said about how many people she had here," he continued, the Pride setting about their work in response. As he began rifling through drawers, Colvin offered up a silent prayer for the people that they had just killed.
"Report from the Pride, ma'am. Reilly's compound has fallen to their assault." Sarah nodded at the Scribe, who had just entered the Great Hall to report to her and the other senior leadership of the Chapter. Sarah had opted to avoid the Citadel's Tactical Operations Center that night, preferring to let her subordinates go about their duties without her interference. The TOC had been a bustle of activity that night, coordinating the various elements of the assault and receiving reports from the field. Sarah turned her attention to the others in the room before speaking.
"That should hopefully buy us some time, disrupt the attacks we've been getting hit with," she said, being met by nods from those assembled. Star-Paladin Cross spoke up in response.
"It should. All the same, we should make sure our outpost in D.C. proper is on alert. This could prompt a retaliatory attack," she replied.
"Good call, Cross. Have it done. Increased security and patrols through that area. And make sure we get this story to Three-Dog to report. Should help boost morale around our settlements and maybe make Megaton come to the table, now that they have no one defending them."
Jackson walked out of Lucas' house, accompanied by his guards. If the Enclave is ever gonna do us a favor, now would be the time. Turning to his men, the decision came to him.
"Fuck it. Get on the radio to the Fort, on our secondary channel, the one that the settlements don't have access to. Tell them to get on the horn with our 'friends.' They'll probably ignore it as always, but it's worth a shot. Maybe they can help whoever survived break out and not get picked off by the Brotherhood. Make it clear that the group we have fighting the Brotherhood is about to be put out of action, sing a song, do a dance; whatever you have to fucking do, just do it. Sell it as hard as you can," he said.
"On it, sir," one of the men said, pulling a radio from a pouch as he walked away into the darkness to make the call in private. Jackson looked at his remaining men.
"Alright. Let's get back inside," he said, leading them back into Lucas' house. The mood was somber in the room. Reilly sat in a corner, head in her hands, as if in shock.
"Any word?" Jackson asked. Harden looked up at him from the radio.
"Managed to reach a few of your guys. They're moving towards Reilly's compound, but it's gonna take them a bit to reach it," he said. Reilly looked up at that.
"We have to do something. We can't let them just take my compound, I'm not leaving my people there to rot," she said, standing as she did. Jackson raised his hand, trying to calm her down.
"Reilly, we can't move that hard on your compound. The Brotherhood will have people watching it, waiting for us to try to go back to it. If we go there we're walking into the kind of fight the Brotherhood is good at. On their terms, on ground they chose, where they can use their Power Armor. It'll just get more people killed."
"Fuck!" Reilly exclaimed, turning around and falling bodily into the chair she had been sitting in. Jackson looked back to the rest of the group.
"I'm going outside for some air. Let me know if anything changes," he said. As he walked back into the night, he was greeted by his radio operator waiting for him. Jackson looked at him expectantly.
"They're transmitting. No word if we've got any response yet," he said. Jackson nodded.
"All we can do is wait. Here's hoping they see some benefit in keeping some of our people alive."
The Talon Company team moved as quickly as they could, cutting through rubble strewn roads and ruined buildings, moving in the direction of Reilly's compound. Their black armor blended well with the shadows cast by the bright moonlight, helping them move more discretely and avoid any unnecessary confrontations. In the distance, the Sergeant in charge of the team responding, a mercenary named Mia, could hear the rattle of automatic weapons fire. She knew all too well what they were running towards, she had heard stories from the survivors of the ambush that had been wiped out by the Brotherhood. She knew that even her heavier weapons, machine guns loaded with belts of AP ammunition, wouldn't have much of an effect on the Brotherhood's new Power Armor. Mia also never backed down from a fight. She never had from her useless father, she never had once she left home, and she certainly never had when she joined Talon Company. The pay was too good and her pride too strong to back down, even from a fight like the one she was moving to. Looking back at the mercenaries behind her, she threw her hand up, signaling for them to begin spreading out. Ahead of her was another street, blocked by rubble but surrounded on both sides by blown out buildings that would provide excellent vantage points.
"Machine guns! Post up in those buildings, get ready to lay some hate. Focus your fire on the ones not in Power Armor. We just need to draw them off long enough for Reilly's people to make a break for it," she said, the sounds of an intense firefight becoming much clearer. We're close, she thought. Quickly, she crawled up the blockade of rubble that lay across the street; taking cover behind a large piece of concrete and rebar and preparing to fire. In the near distance she could hear shouting, interspersed with the muzzle flashes of ballistic weapons and beams of red light coming from the Brotherhood's energy weapons. With the Moon providing the illumination it was she could make out the figures in the distance. One side was taking turns covering each other while attempting to flee; the other relentlessly advancing. The huge figures outlined by the moonlight she recognized as having to be the new Power Armor the Brotherhood had picked up. Each suit of Power Armor was like an anchor, providing a base for the rest of their troops to move forward from. Looking to her right, she made eye contact with the machine-gunner, perched in what was once a window.
"Light 'em up!" she yelled, being answered by the sounds of her team unloading towards the Brotherhood force. She saw at least one unarmored figure drop, before the nearest set of Power Armor swiveled in her direction; followed a moment later by bursts of red laser fire flying in her general direction. Behind her, over the roar of her team's weapons fire, she heard a distinct thumping sound, a sound she recognized. Vertibird. Shit, they're behind us!
The survivors from Reilly's compound had frantically been fleeing, pursued relentlessly by the Brotherhood. The security perimeter Paladin Danse's company had set in place had proven an unexpected surprise for the mercenaries, with the survivors from the compound being taken by surprise and cut down in large numbers before being able to rush for cover and break contact in a coordinated manner. It had turned into a pursuit from there; the Brotherhood's advance implacable, the Power Armor fast over short distances but slower at a prolonged advance. Reilly's Rangers had been able to engage some of the Brotherhood troops that were more lightly armored, wearing only combat armor, but to little effect. The quality of training the Brotherhood possessed was quite clearly in excess of the mercenaries, and the retreat had been bordering on a rout when the night had lit up in front of the desperate survivors; the Talon Company relief force providing a much needed respite as the Brotherhood focused their fire on the new arrival. Against the moonlight, in the far distance, several of the Rangers saw a shape flying, low and fast, before dropping from sight.
The firefight in front of them drew all of the Rangers' attention, lending their own fire to the Talon Company's as they continued to retreat towards the friendly positions. They had advanced to within 50 meters of the Talon Company line, the nearest Brotherhood troops 30 meters behind them, when the fire coming from the Talon Company positions changed. Or, not the Talon Company positions themselves, one of the Rangers realized, but the vicinity of them. Bursts of green light flew into the night, in coordinated bursts; each burst tearing into the ranks of the Brotherhood.
"What the fuck?" one of the Rangers called out, as in the distance, three hulking figures emerged from the shadows cast by a ruined apartment building. Each one held a weapon to their shoulder, weapons firing bursts of green energy. It was not lost on the Rangers what the weapon was. Plasma, and whoever their mysterious rescuers were, they were turning the plasma weapons towards the nearest Brotherhood soldiers that were in Power Armor. Where the bullets and laser bursts of the Talon Company and Reilly's Rangers had been all but useless against this new Power Armor the Brotherhood wore, the plasma wielded by these strangers was devastatingly effective. The Rangers watched as the nearest Brotherhood soldier clad in Power Armor was hit by a barrage of fire from the new arrivals, the plasma boring through his armor and bursting out the back of the Knight's chest, crumpling him to the ground with an audible thud. The sight seemed to shake the other Brotherhood troops nearby, who began to slowly back away as they continued to fire at the new arrivals. It was only when they became visible, their Power Armor illuminated by the Moon, that the Brotherhood troops routed. Where the Brotherhood's Power Armor was bulky and familiar, the new arrivals wore jet black armor, with massively broad shoulder armor and an insectoid looking helm; the eyes bubbles acting as headlamps as well. Relentlessly they moved forward, scything down the retreating Brotherhood with their plasma rifles, before reaching the Power Armored Knight they had killed. Paying no mind to the mercenaries, who had taken the opportunity to run for the Talon Company's lines, they formed a semi-circle around the dead Brotherhood trooper; as if guarding him. In the distance, the sounds of Vertibird rotors became audible again, followed a moment later by the aircraft becoming visible over the buildings. It dropped quickly to land, the lamp lowering as it did. The group responded by hoisting the fallen Knight and carrying him onto the aircraft.
The Vertibird had landed just long enough for Mia, the Talon Company sergeant, to make out the livery on the tail and side of the aircraft. Gone was the familiar cogs, wings, and sword of the Brotherhood of Steel. In their place, she had seen, was a simple design: a circle of stars, with the letter "E" emblazoned in the middle.
Hey everyone. Hope you enjoy the chapter. As always your comments and reviews are most welcome. This machine runs on ego. Have a good one!