January 20, 2282
Sarah Lyons strode through the halls of the Citadel, exiting into the wan, grey light of the early morning. Assembled, the Capital Wasteland Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel awaited her, arrayed in their neatly ordered ranks by company. All knew something was afoot – the newly appointed Elder had not yet addressed the assembled Chapter at first call; leaving it to the company commanders to take charge and carry out their orders for the day. Except those who had other duties, all were present and looked on as Sarah took the stairs to a podium that had been erected in the courtyard to address her soldiers. She was dressed in her simple duty uniform, still rejecting the affectation of Elders' robes. Taking a moment, she looked across the ranks of the Brotherhood, the soldier in her pleased by how well ordered her soldiers were.
"Good morning," she began; being met with the Chapter responding in kind as one. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips before she continued. "I have no desire to waste your time, or mine. I am standing before you simply to inform you that, as of today, this Chapter is once again on a war footing. In recent weeks, it has become clear that there are grave threats to our order, and the peacekeeping operations we have engaged in for the last three years are no longer appropriate," she continued.
"You are all aware by now of the attacks our forces have experienced in the ruins. These are no mere raider attacks, not simply dead-enders and burnouts taking potshots are our troops. We face a well-organized, well-equipped insurgency, one determined to kill Brotherhood soldiers and blunt the progress we have made in bringing order and the rule of law to the Capital Wasteland. These insurgents are not alone," Sarah continued, taking a breath before delivering news that she knew would unnerve those who remembered.
"They are equipped, and as of last night, have received support in combat from the forces of the Enclave," she said. To their credit, the Chapter remained silent, the only reaction being the shifting in place and quick, sidelong glances of some of those assembled; before regaining their composure and waiting for their Elder to continue. "Those of you who have served in this order will remember the Enclave and their capabilities. I encourage you to inform your junior soldiers of what you know. To those who have never faced the Enclave, I tell you now – they are the greatest existential threat to the Brotherhood of Steel there is. Their equipment is superior to ours; their technology is more advanced than ours, and the base of their operations is unknown to us. But do not let this intimidate you. We have defeated the Enclave before, in California and here, in the Capital Wasteland. Should they come into the open and challenge us for the Wasteland, I have no doubt we will defeat them again." Sarah glanced quickly to her side, where Scribe Rothchild and Star Paladin Cross stood, before continuing.
"The insurgency we are facing is decentralized, not based out of any one place. Nevertheless, in light of last night's attack by the Enclave, steps must be taken to deny the enemy safe haven in the Capital Wasteland. As such, from this moment forward, the settlement of Megaton and the surrounding area is to be considered hostile territory; and you will conduct yourselves as such. All those wearing the armor of the Talon Company and Reilly's Rangers are to be considered enemy forces. The leaders of this insurrection, misguided individuals from Megaton, Arefu, and Vault 101, are to be considered high-value targets and detained if possible and killed if not." That was enough to draw a few low murmurs from the ranks; more than one soldier would have family or personal ties to settlements Sarah had just declared enemy territory. Undeterred, Sarah pushed forward, continuing to the last piece of bad news she had to deliver.
"Further, we have received reports from our scouts that there are indications of Super Mutant activity to the north of here. We have had no visual confirmation, and none of our forces have made contact with any Super Mutants. But, be advised: if you see anything 8-feet tall and green, you are cleared to engage," she finished, hoping to inject some humor into what had been a grim briefing. There was a smattering of low chuckles from the assembly in response. "That is all I have. As we learn more, you will receive information from your leadership. Company commanders, take charge for the day. Dismissed," Sarah said, before turning and attempting to stride from the courtyard as confidently as possible while her soldiers could see. Behind her, she heard Rothchild and Cross fall in behind her. When they had reentered the hallways of the Citadel, she turned to face the two.
"I think that went as well as could be expected," she began. Rothchild nodded in agreement.
"It could have been worse, considering the subject matter. I didn't see any obvious signs of panic from our soldiers."
"Nor did I," Sarah replied. "Cross, thoughts?" The Star Paladin considered for a moment before responding.
"They'll be ready. I think the challenge will excite the younger soldiers who never knew war and don't know what the Enclave can do. I regret that we've had to make enemies of Megaton and the other settlements in the Wasteland, but they've thrown in with the Enclave. They have chosen their side." Sarah nodded at her response.
"Agreed. Make sure word is passed to our combat outpost in the DC ruins. And make sure they've increased their security protocols in case we face a retaliatory attack after the raid on Reilly," she said.
"It will be done, Elder," Cross replied.
"You should discuss this with the leaders of the Provisional Government today," Rothchild interjected, gently reminding Sarah that she had her first council meeting to attend as Elder later that day.
"Of course," Sarah replied, silently grateful she had Rothchild to remind her of these things.
February 1, 2082
Emily McPherson was pissed. She was pissed to be in New Vegas; a city she hated, in a Wasteland that had killed her lover. She was pissed at the unpleasant trip, the long walk, the backup at the Mojave Outpost and how incessantly hot the desert was. She was especially pissed at John Thompson, taking off to join up with the OSS and fight for the NCR and leaving her to take charge of the expedition to the Capital Wasteland herself. She had not made the trip alone – with her were the four other Followers of the Apocalypse accompanying her on the trip, and the old caravanner Bonzo had agreed to accompany her and see the group of his old friends off.
It was evening as they entered the Vegas Strip, the neon lights of the city coming to life and drenching the city in a kaleidoscope of colors. The group made their way to the Tops, where they were told the other half of the group – Smith, Gale, and Fawkes – would await their arrival. Emily tried to control the feeling of her gorge rising as they walked down the Strip, callers in front of every casino advertising every vice they had to offer. Reaching the Tops, they stepped through the doors into the dimmer lights of the casino floor. From behind the front desk, a well-dressed man greeted them in a suave sounding voice.
"Hey there, welcome to the Tops! Can I…" he began, trailing off as he laid eyes on Emily. "I'll be damned, but you look a hell of a lot like my girl Gale."
"So I'm told. Conveniently, we're here for her and Yudhajit Smith," she replied. A look of realization lit up the man's eyes at her reply.
"I was told to expect you! They're up on the 13th floor. Gotta ask though, before I let you up – you'll have to leave your pieces up here with me," he said, a vaguely apologetic tone to his voice. Emily felt a brief flash of confusion at the man's request, before Bonzo stepped past her, offering his handgun to the man, butt end first. Oh, those pieces. Our guns, she thought. She reached down to unholster her own pistol and give it to the man, the others in the party doing the same.
"Don't worry about these, they'll be safe as houses up here. You all can head on up now – and if you need anything else, you just ask for Swank."
"We'll do that," Emily replied, in a tone that made clear she would not ask and, in fact, could not possibly leave this casino quickly enough. She led the way, Bonzo at her side, to the elevators that led to the 13th floor. The trip was short, and before long they had stepped out into what had clearly once been a luxury suite, and even now remained one of the most upscale rooms Emily had ever been in. Gale lay in front of them, languidly sprawled out on a couch. Across from her, Fawkes sat on the floor, back against a wall and a book in his hand. From the doorway directly across from them, Smith entered the room, hearing their arrival. A smile crossed his face, one that quickly turned to a frown.
"I'm glad to see you, but…" Yudhajit began. Emily rolled her eyes, knowing where he was going.
"Yeah. John. He's not coming, he's off playing soldier, fighting for the NCR," she replied. A snicker came from Gale at that.
"CALLLLLLLLLLLLED IT," she said, overly loudly and to nobody in particular. Yudhajit shot her a disapproving glance, before turning back to Emily.
"What do you mean he's off fighting for the NCR?"
"Just that. He got a visit from an OSS officer. I don't know what was discussed, but the next thing I knew, he was telling me he had to go. I'm not sitting around waiting for him with a thumb up my ass. Our mission is too important," Emily replied.
"Are you shitting me? The kid got Shanghaied into the OSS?" Yudhajit replied, aghast. Fawkes had stood and joined them from where he had been sitting, his bulk towering over them and barely fitting under the ceiling.
"I shit you not. He's in the OSS now, off God knows where, fighting their secret wars. The rest of us are here and ready to go. We have the supplies, we have a plan. I want to get out of this God-forsaken city and on the road to the East Coast ASAP," Emily said. Yudhajit turned his attention to the rest of the group, offering a distracted hand to Bonzo as a greeting to his old friend. As he did, Gale stood up from the couch. Emily was taken aback by what she saw. There was something different about the younger woman, but she couldn't say what. Her posture, her attitude…this was not the optimistic girl she had originally met. That girl had struck her as something of an overly enthusiastic country bumpkin. The woman in front of her was a survivor. She was dressed like a Wastelander, and the look in her eyes had no softness left.
"Speaking of leaving. I'm not," Gale said, drawing a sound of alarm from Bonzo. Yudhajit rapidly turned to face her, surprise on his face, as he looked down at the girl that he considered something akin to an adopted granddaughter. Emily was silently stunned at what Gale had said. She had previously seemed to be along for the ride, just ready to get back to West Virginia and on to the Capital Wasteland.
"What do you mean, 'I'm not,'" Bonzo asked, as Yudhajit tried to find words.
"Just that. I'm not. I don't want to leave the Mojave, so I'm staying in Vegas for now. Maybe when John finishes playing soldier in California I'll come with him then, but not now."
"Where the hell is this coming from?"" Yudhajit asked, his voice clearly shaken. "What about your family, what about West Vir-" he continued, before Gale cut him off.
"West Virginia? Really? I made it all this way to New Vegas and you think I just want to pack it in after a few weeks?"
"But your family…" he began responding.
"Oh yes, my family. Coalseam," she replied, rolling her eyes. "You've been to West Virginia. Why would I want to go back there?" she continued, her voice rising. "I don't know why anyone would want to go to West Virginia when New Vegas is an option. So I'm not. Big things are about to happen here, and I want to see it." Bonzo spoke up in reply.
"Kid, I don't know if you're paying attention, but the way things are going now, the Legion is about to overrun the Mojave. And this ain't gonna be the place for good lookin' young ladies when they do," he said. Gale met him with an unaffected expression.
"Legion won't win. I'm not worried about that," she continued, plowing ahead before she could be interrupted. "And I'm not changing my mind. I'll see you guys off, but I like it here. This is where I want to be," she said, before turning and stalking out of the room without waiting for a reply.
February 7, 2282
"I say we hit those motherfuckers tonight!" It was the 20th time, in 20 days, that Reilly had said some variation of those words. This time she was saying it to a room that contained the collected leadership of what the Brotherhood had deemed the "insurgency." Lucas Simms, Susie Mack and Officer Gomez, Jackson Clancy and Evan King; and leaning against the far wall, Charon stood with his arms crossed.
"I actually agree with Reilly," Jackson responded, drawing several surprised looks. "We're ready," he continued. "Ever since the Brotherhood hit Reilly's compound, we've been redistributing weapons and moving people around. We've built a significant presence in the ruins near the Brotherhood outpost over the past two weeks. The people we've got have all been equipped with as many of the Plasma weapons we have and different heavy weapons; missile launchers, machine guns, a Fat Man. We've got as much heavy firepower there as we're gonna get. Enough that we can do some serious damage and maybe, if things break right, overrun their outpost. Maybe get our hands on some of their power armor and weapons; or at least a few of their radios so we can listen in to their comms before they change their encryption."
"I want in," Reilly immediately said, before anyone else could respond. Jackson pursed his lips before nodding.
"I figured you might," he replied. "You and the rest of your people can get in on this. I know you've got blood in the game now. How do you feel about being a diversion?" Reilly thought for a moment.
"I'd be down for that. Just gimme a plan…" she began before they were interrupted by Harden bursting through the door.
"Dad! I dunno who it is, but I saw somebody I didn't know sneak into the Wanderer's old place," he breathlessly said, Lucas jumping to his feet and grabbing his rifle as he did. Reilly, Jackson, and Charon all reached for their weapons as well, moving to follow Lucas out the door and to John's old house, near the entrance to the town. Shortly behind, without their weapons drawn, Susie, Gomez, and Evan followed. They quickly horseshoed around the door to the house, weapons at the low ready, waiting for the intruder to come out. It was not long before the door opened and out came a young, blonde woman; clearly startled by the collection of weapons pointed at her. Slowly, she raised her hands, eyes glancing around before locking with Charon, who let out a heavy sigh.
"Missy, I don't know who…" Lucas began, before Harden interrupted.
"Ms. Alecia? Dad, this is who saved me from those men outside Springvale," Harden said, making Lucas' rifle lower slightly.
"Lower your weapons," Charon said, limping forward to stand next to the woman. "Put your hands down, you look ridiculous," he said to the woman in an exasperated tone, who rolled her eyes in reply. Lucas looked at Charon, a nonplussed expression on his face, as if asking for an explanation. "Lucas, everyone," he began, before looking down to the woman, who paused for a moment before nodding, a deeply unhappy expression on her face. "Meet Lady Conquest. Clover. The Ghost in the Ruins," he said, gesturing to her as he did. Several jaws dropped at that. Clearly, Clover was not what they had expected from the ghost that had been assisting them. Before anyone could speak, Charon continued.
"How the hell did the kid catch you? You're getting sloppy, Clover. What happened to that suit the kid gave you?"
"I've been getting headaches. Think I've been using it too much lately. Didn't think anyone had noticed me. They usually don't," she replied, before shooting a venomous glance at Harden. "And if they do, they keep their mouths shut."
"What're you doing rootin' around in John's old house?" Lucas asked.
"Looking for something. Something that'll help me kill off the Provisional Government that the Brotherhood has going at their next meeting," she replied, dropping all pretense of subterfuge with her cover blown. They knew, now. Clover realized that she was now committed, all in on the side of the Wasteland. If she was lucky, her description wouldn't leave this group.
"What does JJ have in his house that could do that? Don't they have their meetings in the middle of Rivet City?" Susie asked from where she stood.
"Yeah. But I know something about one of the members that nobody else knows," Clover replied. "And if it works, I can wipe out most of their government, decapitate them and the Brotherhood all at once." Several of the group shifted uncomfortably at that.
"Kill them? Sarah Lyons, the Rivet City Council, the others? I dunno, lady. Things have been ugly lately, but that'll be…" Evan began, before Clover cut him off.
"It's war, now. I've heard what's happening on their side. Sarah Lyons has cleared her people to go weapons free against all of you. You're all high value targets, to be detained if possible, killed if not. They think you've allied with the Enclave, and they'll do anything to stop that." Reilly shook her head before putting her face in her hands.
"The Enclave? Because…because they covered Reilly's people when they were escaping? But we don't even know where they came from!" Lucas desperately cried out, as if Clover could change the situation because of his plea.
"They don't know that. They just know that 9 of their people died when they got hit out of nowhere by the Enclave. Enclave isn't known for playing nice or caring about the Wasteland. So they think you've all thrown in with them," Clover explained, a frustrated tone creeping into her voice. Its like explaining this to a group of toddlers. An uncomfortable silence passed for a moment before Charon finally spoke.
"Alright, introductions made. Good meeting. I think this was productive. We should let her get to business," he said, jerking his thumb at Clover as he did. She nodded at him before moving for the exit of the town, nobody making to stop her. Once they were certain she had left, the group looked back to Charon for an explanation.
"Who in the actual fuck is she?" Jackson asked, voicing what was on everybody's mind. Charon snorted, suppressing a laugh at the question.
"Our Fourth Horsewoman. Back in the day, she was batshit crazy. She's still batshit crazy, but she was then too. Probably more so," he said, his voice trailing off. Reilly spoke up, a frustrated tone in her voice.
"Charon, focus. That isn't an answer," she said. Charon looked at her, a 1000-yard stare on the remains of his face, before he snapped back to them.
"Oh, yeah. Clover. We picked her up…I guess close to four years ago now? Three and a half, maybe. She was a slave at Paradise Falls when we hit the place. The kid saw something in her, and she ended up fighting with us once she had some kind of sanity. The Queen of Dirty Tricks, Lady Conquest, take your pick. She was kinda sloppy back in the day, but I've heard the stories now. I might hate to admit it, but she's probably the best there is at what she does. With as fucked up as he was by the time we were done with the last war, maybe even better than the kid is now," Charon said. Jackson let out a low whistle at that.
"High praise," Susie said. Charon nodded.
"It is. And I don't praise lightly. She might annoy the shit outta me, but I also owe her my life. She was the first one that saved our asses the day our Vertibird was shot down. I didn't know until much later. But most of the story you've heard about that day is Brotherhood bullshit. If there's anybody we want on our side for this fight, it's Clover," he explained. The answer seemed to satisfy the group, much to his relief.
FUCKFUCKFUCKSTUPIDFUCK Clover's brain screamed as she walked away from Megaton. She felt like a dog with its tail between its leg. In fact, she was struggling to remember a time she felt more humiliated. Caught by a kid like a total amateur FUCKINGSTUPIDBITCH her internal voice ranted at her. Taking a deep breath, Clover attempted to regain some stability to her thought processes. She took the opportunity to focus on her surroundings, using her senses to take in the environment and distract her brain from what it was thinking. There was silence, the wind blowing across the Wasteland her only company, as she made her way to her most recent safehouse to retrieve her belongings. She knew the mission to Rivet City would be incredibly dangerous. One slip-up and her cover would be blown. In that event, the best she could hope for was to escape and be useless for any covert operations in the future. At worst, the Brotherhood would capture her, and likely torture her for information before executing her.
Walking into her safehouse, she threw the lock on the door behind her before unbuckling her holster and throwing her weapons on to her bed. Next came the Wastelander disguise she wore, replaced by the Chinese stealth suit. She stowed several chems in the pockets built into the stealth suit – a Stimpak, Med-X, Rad-X and Rad-Away – before grabbing the Perforator rifle. She pulled the bolt back, clearing the weapon and looking down the optic before slapping a magazine in and hitting the bolt release, chambering a round. She took a deep breath, before being hit with the realization: I'm exhausted, she thought. She felt the weakness in her legs, felt her entire being experiencing something akin to running into a wall. If I do this right now, there's a chance I fuck up and get myself killed, she thought. Unhappily, she began to take the stealth suit back off, letting it fall to the floor before she herself fell into bed. Almost immediately, she drifted into the first untroubled sleep she had experienced in years.
Black leather boots made their distinct sound with each step. A pressed, olive drab military uniform, devoid of all insignia save a two-headed bear on one collar, and a stylized spear on the other, were what the boots were bloused into. John Thompson had worn many hats and had many titles in his 23 years – doctor, friend, fighter, enemy, lover, hated ex. Never had he worn something like the title "soldier." Nor had he ever expected to be in uniform or calling himself by that title, not even when he was working with the Brotherhood. There he had always felt as if he was with them, but not one of them.
Here, though. Here, on the other side of the country, in the NCR, he felt like one of them. Around him, other men and women wore the same uniform as him. The irony was not lost as he reflected on the previous year. He had, in part, set out from Megaton because he feared that someday, the NCR's relentless expansion would reach the East Coast and what he thought of as "his people" would be subsumed into something they didn't want to be a part of. And now, not even a year later, he was not only in the NCR but wearing its uniform. Colonel Rogers had done him the civility of giving John the pretense of being forced into service in the OSS; but John had no objections. Over his relatively short time in California he had come to love the place, the possibilities it offered, the way life felt. He realized that the East Coast, the Capital Wasteland, had begun to feel like a distant memory, something more like a holoreel he had once watched rather than a life he had lived. His days as the Lone Wanderer, and everything that came with it, was a painful memory, if he felt anything at all when reflecting on it. There were pangs of longing and homesickness – missing Amata, missing Megaton – but he had been able to suppress them by focusing on the life he was rapidly building for himself in the NCR.
John pulled open the door to the offices that his team was assigned to, pulling him from his silent musings. The other five soldiers were there, talking amongst themselves, drinking coffee; one of them taking a final drag off a cigarette.
"Nice of you to finally show up, Dion," the team leader said. His name was Dom, but the others called him Sport. Everyone on the team seemed to have a nickname, and apparently, they had settled on "Dion" for John. Dom was the most tired looking 28-year-old that John had ever met. He had a sleeve tattoo on one arm, and a mustache that he seemed to wear solely to make people uncomfortable.
"Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long, Sport," John replied, emphasizing the man's nickname to a round of snickering from the other soldiers. Without missing a beat, Dom responded.
"You didn't keep me waiting, you kept the Colonel waiting," he said, trying to not laugh. From the corner of the room, where John hadn't seen him, Colonel Rogers stepped forward. The group of men all stood from where they were seated, moving to where John was to hear what the Colonel had to say. Shit, John thought. Not a great look. The Colonel was wearing the same duty uniform as the rest of them, olive drab and polished, black leather boots. Unlike theirs, his had identifying insignia on it – an Eagle on his collar, representing his rank, and identification tapes sewn above the cargo pockets on his shirt; one reading "Rogers" and the other "NCR Army." Above the NCR Army tape were two additional badges that John didn't recognize, one that looked like an Old World-style parachute with a pair of wings coming from it; the other, a Revolutionary-era musket in a box, a wreath framing it.
"Morning, gentlemen," Rogers began, clapping his hands together as he said it. He received a variety of greetings back from the group. "I'm gonna jump right to it," he continued. "You all know the situation in the Mojave is degrading fast. Legion is advancing, and intelligence is indicating we have, at most, six weeks until they move on Hoover Dam. If we're lucky, we can buy ourselves some time, but everything will be settled there by the end of spring. We still don't know what side this Courier Six is going to fall on," he said, before gesturing to John. "Mr. Thompson here…" he began before Dom interrupted him.
"Dion, sir." Colonel Rogers cocked a quizzical eyebrow at that. "That's his new name. He's not John anymore, he's Dion," he explained.
"And is there a reason for that, Sport?" the Colonel asked in reply. John crossed his arms, looking at Dom, waiting for the explanation himself.
"Really?" Dom answered in a deadpan voice, being met by silent stares from the Colonel and John in response. "He," Dom began, gesturing at John, "was the Lone Wanderer on the East Coast. Dion wrote the song 'The Wanderer,'" he continued, being met by more silence. "Jesus, am I the only person here who listens to music?" he asked in disbelief. Colonel Rogers stared at him silently for a short moment before turning to the rest of the group.
"So Mr. Thompson here has told us that he has doubts about the mental stability of Courier Six, making him an unpredictable element in the Mojave," Rogers said, pretending he had not heard anything Dom just said. "We have intelligence that when the time comes, the Legion will launch attacks outside of Hoover Dam and the Mojave as diversionary operations, to draw off our resources and take as much land as they can in conjunction with their advance across the Colorado River. It's all hands on deck across the board. I know you gents have only had a few weeks to train together, but General Oliver and NCR command has ordered full mobilization of all our remaining assets, especially after they pulled off the assassination of President Kimball," the Colonel explained. One of the other soldiers piped up at that.
"They have any idea yet how that happened, sir?" the man asked. Colonel Rogers shook his head. Everyone present had high enough security clearances to be told anything that had developed in the investigation.
"Not entirely, no. Current theory is that Legion infiltrated someone, replaced one of the engineers at Hoover Dam with one of their own people, who then reprogrammed the anti-aircraft gun at the Dam to fire on Bear Force One, instead," Rogers said.
"Shit," someone else muttered, under their breath. It was the sort of subtlety that most Californians, NCR soldiers included, didn't associate with the Legion. Those like the OSS, who knew what the Frumentarii were, knew better. Still, that was incredibly audacious if it was accurate, even for a Frumentarius.
"Where are we headed, sir?" Dom asked, steering the briefing back to its original purpose.
"All available OSS assets are being moved into staging positions up and down the border with the Mojave. We'll be running missions to break up Legion attacks before they can happen and, if the worst comes to pass, cover our forces while they retreat from Hoover Dam, slow down the Legion's advance until we can evacuate New Vegas and McCarran." Rogers' explanation was met by grim silence. It made sense to plan for all eventualities, but hearing them given voice made the possibility more chilling.
"You, and two other teams, will be staging out of the mountains around Death Valley. You'll have Vertibird support for aerial reconnaissance and to intercept Legion forces as needed. Plan on the area surrounding Telescope Peak as your AO, with the possibility of being spun up to move into the Mojave and assist in evacuations, if needed." Nods and sounds of agreement met the Colonel in reply. He looked each man in the eye before silently nodding as well, crossing his arms over his chest. "This is it, men. This is the deep shit; deepest we've been in since the war with the Enclave. I'll be out there too, helping coordinate and keep General Oliver off your backs so you can do your jobs. I'll see you out there," he finished, before turning and leaving the team to prepare.
Jackson looked down from his position, on one of the upper levels of a ruined apartment building, at the Brotherhood's outpost, 50 meters ahead of him. He questioned why they had chosen this position in the ruins. It had easy access to burgeoning settlements, sure; but unless they kept security in all the buildings, all the time, they were very susceptible to plunging fire that would come in over their walls from anyone that could get into an elevated position.
His mercs were in elevated positions all around the outpost, surrounding it on three sides. Talon Company veterans, almost all armed with Plasma rifles, many of the rest operating heavier weapons like machine guns and missile launchers. On the roof of one of the buildings, perpendicular to the outpost's Entry Control Point, he knew one of the mercs had a Fat Man and a list of priority targets for when the shooting started.
All that was left now was the signal. Jackson knew this would be the most intense fight of his life. Talon Company didn't make a habit of fighting fair. It especially didn't make a habit of fighting fair against professional soldiers in power armor. He had chosen the best veteran mercs he had, the ones with enough experience in the Wasteland to come close to matching the Brotherhood's training and doctrine. He hoped against hope that something remained of the Brotherhood's complacency and arrogance that had developed over the years since the Muties were wiped out and the Wasteland was pacified. That could be enough for him to come out of this fight alive.
Somewhere out in the ruins of DC, Reilly would be the signal. She, and what remained of Reilly's Rangers, lay in ambush along one of the Brotherhood's nightly patrol routes. Their initiating the ambush would be Talon Company's signal. Listen for gunfire, wait for the inevitable Quick Reaction Force to move out of the Brotherhood outpost, and when they did, unleash hell. Jackson ran through the steps in their plan again, the assurance of the plan easing some of his anxiety. It was a simple plan, not overly complicated, which was how he liked it. Not too many moving pieces. Those made things fall apart too easily. He looked down the sights of his Plasma weapon again, visualizing what he would do when the shooting started.
Arthur Maxson was awakened as he was thrown from his bunk by the force of a large explosion. Immediately, adrenaline dumped as he came to consciousness, his stomach doing a backflip. He became aware as he did of the sounds of ballistic and energy weapons fire, and the screaming of missiles in the distance. Frantically, he ran to his combat armor, throwing on the chest piece over his bare torso and helmet onto his head, before sliding into his boots and tightening them as quickly as possible. Reaching for the shelf, he grabbed his laser rifle and rushed out the door of the barracks his platoon was in, being greeted by a sight that was a veritable hellscape. The ECP was just gone, a crater where it had been, what little remained of the gatehouse burning. The two guard towers that sat adjacent to the ECP were both aflame, huge holes blasted in them. On the ground, in the near distance, he saw the bodies of several Brotherhood soldiers. Before he could think, he became aware of the crack of gunfire landing near him. He immediately made a dash for the outpost's Command Post, knowing it was where they would begin rallying to fight off the attack.
He dashed to the CP's entrance, several bullets kicking up dirt around his feet as he did. Throwing himself through the doorway, the sounds of chaos greeted him. At the radio, a Knight was frantically radioing the Citadel.
"…Under heavy attack! Say again, we are under heavy attack! Require immediate QRF!" the man cried into the radio. Maxson looked at the group that had already gathered, a mix of initiates and aspirants, only one of whom he recognized, alongside one other Knight he had seen in passing before.
"All of you, with me! If we don't start fighting now they'll overrun us!" He said, the decisiveness in his tone being met by immediate compliance. The Brotherhood soldiers stacked behind him as he darted through the doorway, back on to the battlefield that had once been their outpost. Ahead of him, he saw a group rushing through the wreckage of the ECP, firing plasma weapons as they did. He immediately raised his laser rifle and fired at the nearest, dropping him with a shot to the chest. Behind him, he heard his soldiers engaging the enemy. In the flickering light of the fires the attack had started, he could make out the black combat armor and white claw of the Talon Company. Shitshitshit its coordinated they have plasma plasma works against T-60… his brain frantically thought. He snapped himself out of it as he dove behind a jersey barrier for cover, next to one of the Initiates. He recognized her, had seen her around the Citadel and the outpost, they were in the same company. Flores, that's her name.
"Flores," he yelled over the din of the battle. She looked at him, wide eyed. If he had to guess, she was only a few years older than him. Wavy, brown hair poked out from under her helmet, as she clutched her laser rifle to her chest. "You cover me from behind this barrier. We're gonna bound forward and go get control of the situation at the ECP. Got it?" She nodded at him in reply, readying her weapon as she did.
"Got you covered, sir," she replied. Arthur nodded at her, took a deep breath, and dashed from behind his cover, back into the open. Immediately, he was met with a barrage of fire; not just from Talon Company mercs on the ground in the outpost but, he realized, from the windows of the buildings surrounding the outpost. He fired off his laser rifle in the direction of the nearest mercenaries, not aiming so much as trying to force them to keep their heads down while he ran for a fighting position with sandbags surrounding it. He dove the last yard, landing on his back behind the sandbags with a heaving breath. Rolling over, he looked in the direction of the barrier Flores would be waiting behind.
"Set!" he yelled back, before poking up from behind the sandbags to unload at where he had seen the largest group of Talon Company. In his peripheral vision, he saw Flores pop out of cover and run for her own position, also unloading her weapon at Talon Company. Behind him, Arthur heard some of the other soldiers he had rallied at the CP running to join him in the fighting position. In the distance, beyond his immediate firefight, he could see other Brotherhood soldiers, some in T-60 armor, firing up at the buildings they were being shot at from. We're so fucked, he thought, unbidden. His people were in the open, with almost no cover, firing up at an enemy that was in cover, with the high ground, and in possession of weapons that could defeat the T-60 armor that was one of the Brotherhood's biggest advantages. He pushed the thought from his head, focusing on the situation he could affect in front of him. He and the soldiers that had formed up alongside him started pouring fire at where the Talon mercs were in cover, as Arthur reached to the belt on his combat armor and pulled a grenade. He pulled the pin before calling out.
"Frag out!" he yelled, before heaving the grenade towards the enemy. It landed in close proximity, with two of the mercenaries diving out of their cover as the grenade detonated, only to be immediately cut down by fire from Arthur's group.
"Move forward!" Arthur yelled, jumping over the sandbags and rushing for the wall adjacent to the flaming ECP. He heard the shrieking of a missile over the sounds of gunfire and threw himself forward, onto his stomach, drawing his free hand up to cover the part of his neck that his helmet didn't. The missile detonated behind him, and he heard a scream immediately after. No time to stop, he thought, as he pushed himself up and continued to rush forward. He reached the wall of the outpost and flattened himself against it. Looking around, he saw most of the group he had set out from the CP with. Flores had fallen in alongside him. He looked over at her with a nod, before edging his way towards where the wall ended. He peaked out, towards the nearest building, and was met by an immediate barrage of machine gun fire and the scream of another missile; one which landed harmlessly in the distance. Arthur looked back to Flores, a plan beginning to form.
"Flores, I need you to get back to the CP. Get to whoever is in charge in there, and make sure they don't have the QRF come in on Vertibirds. They'll get knocked out of the air as soon as they show up right now. Get the message out, we need to start pushing forward into these buildings and clearing them, close the range. They're tearing us apart with this crew served fire. Got it?" She nodded back at him in reply.
"Got it, sir!" She said. He looked her in the eye before responding.
"We're gonna make for that nearest building and give you some cover. You just run like hell." He didn't wait for a reply, instead signaling to the other soldiers in the group to form up on him. He nodded quickly at them. "Let's get it done, men!" Flores dashed towards the CP as Arthur and his troops sprinted around the corner, firing blindly at the windows of the nearest building. He heard one of his soldiers go down as they ran, with the rest reaching the ruins of the apartment building. They pressed their backs to the wall, shuffling towards the nearest doorway to the building. In the distance, he heard the thumping of Vertibird rotors. Shit! He thought. Flores was too late. He refused to consider the possibility that Flores had been killed in her dash to relay his message. Looking back at his remaining soldiers, he gave the hand signal to cover him, and smoothly moved through the doorway into the entry of the building.
Jackson couldn't believe how well their attack was proceeding. In front of him, the Brotherhood outpost was burning. He could see the bodies of dead Brotherhood soldiers scattered everywhere, as he continued unloading his plasma rifle at a small group he saw firing at the building adjacent to their outpost, where the Fat Man was posted up. Jackson reached for a flashlight that he had set on the table in the room, flashing it three times as a signal at the mercs in the other building. His signal was met a moment later by the whining whistle of a Mini-Nuke being launched, arcing towards its target. It hit its target, blowing a hole in the far wall of the outpost and knocking out one of the guard towers, throwing back several of the Brotherhood soldiers who had been firing at the building. As they were knocked from their positions of cover, Jackson saw them begin to be torn apart by fire from his people. That would kickoff phase two of their attack. In the distance, he saw another, larger group of mercs rush through the hole created by the Fat Man blast. Over the near-deafening noise of battle, he heard the whopping of Vertibird rotors. He almost couldn't believe it. He looked towards one of the mercenaries with him.
"Hey, you! Grab that missile launcher, they've got a Vertibird coming in. When it gets in range, you knock it out."
"Sure thing, boss," the merc replied, slinging their plasma rifle, and making to prep the missile launcher.
"Hey Jackson, we got Brotherhood on the lower floors of this building!" one of the other mercs said, an edge to their voice. Jackson nodded in reply.
"Take some of your people, post up on the choke points. There're only a few ways they can get up on this floor. See that they don't."
"You got it, boss" the mercenary replied, before gesturing to three others and moving for the doorway.
Arthur made his way down a hallway, the empty window frame at the end of it giving him a view of the disaster happening at the outpost. From his now elevated position, he could see how badly things were going. The ground was strewn with bodies, several of the barracks were on fire. There were pockets of resistance, disorganized but fighting bravely. As he slowly crept forward, holding his laser rifle at the low-ready, he was startled by the sound of a nearby explosion. The cause came into view a moment later. Outside, an engine missing and the cabin aflame, a Vertibird was in a death spiral. It had clearly been knocked out by a missile launcher, just as Arthur had feared. He watched helplessly as it plunged to the ground, the wreckage exploding and skidding to a stop just outside the walls of the Brotherhood outpost, where it lay burning. He pushed what he had just seen from his mind, making his way towards the window, where the stairwell to the upper floors lay. He stopped at the entryway, listening and hearing movement and hushed voices coming down the stairway. Talon Company, in a blocking position to prevent their reaching the upper floors. Arthur looked back at one of his soldiers, giving him the hand signal to move into position. Reaching for his belt, Arthur pulled out his last grenade. He pulled the pin and then released the handle, triggering the fuse. In his head, Arthur counted to three before rolling around the corner and throwing the grenade up the stairs. There was the start of a cry of alarm from the upper floor, which was cut off by the explosion of the grenade. Immediately, the man Arthur had moved into position ran through the doorway and up the stairs; Arthur rolling in behind him and moving up to cover his back. He heard the soldier in front of him discharge his laser rifle, silencing the Talon mercenaries that remained. The man looked back at Arthur, who pointed up the stairwell, signaling that they should continue moving to the higher floors.
They moved up, four more floors, closing in on the increasingly loud noises of energy weapons and machine gun fire. Arthur took point as they reached the floor he had determined the Talon Company was firing from. He looked back at his soldiers and gave them the signal to cover him. Raising his rifle to the ready position, he began moving towards the sounds of fire coming from one of the rooms at the end of the hallway. From outside the window, he could see the sky beginning to lighten with the dawn. As he approached the room he knew the Talon Company to be in, he was met by the sounds of weapons fire, and talking, falling silent. Maybe getting ready to break it off with the sun coming up. To his surprise, as he neared the doorway, a man burst through. Taller than Arthur, older looking, wearing the standard black of the Talon Company. Instinctively, Arthur punched out with the butt of his rifle, catching the surprised man in the face and staggering him. As the man fell backwards, Arthur quickly brought his laser rifle into position and fired a quick burst into the man's chest. At the range they were, Arthur knew the man was dead before he hit the ground. A burst of fire came from the room, futilely searching for him. Another of the Brotherhood soldiers moved forward, prepping a grenade before throwing it into the room. It detonated a moment later, and the room fell silent. Arthur looked down at the man he had killed, lying dead at the entrance to the room. For a brief moment, he wondered about all the days that the man had lived, only to end here, at his hand.
He pushed the thought from his head and stepped over Jackson Clancy's body, entering the room the Talon Company had been firing at his comrades from, clearing it to make sure nobody was left alive.
After the first Vertibird had been shot down the Brotherhood proceeded on foot. They were dropped off by Vertibirds and rushed through the ruins towards the outpost, being harried as they did. Slowly, but surely, the Talon Company attack began to be blunted, but the fighting was still intense. Arthur and his soldiers had made their way back to the CP, where he was pleased to see Flores had survived. She greeted him as he returned, running across the killing ground to the CP that the battle was now being coordinated from.
"Sir! The CO is dead. We've been holding them, and reinforcements are arriving, but we don't have a plan," she said. He paused for a moment before responding.
"Get on the horn," he said to the Knight sitting at the radio. "Tell everyone to push forward, fast as possible. Nothing pretty, just close in and get into those buildings. We can't swap fire back and forth like this. Make sure the Citadel knows that this is a mass casualty. We're gonna need a lot of MEDEVACs when this thing is over," he said. The man gave him and affirmation before turning back to relay the message. Arthur turned his attention to Flores.
"I need you to get over there," he began, pointing in the direction of the far side of the COP. "Relay my message, make sure they get it done. I'm counting on you." He said.
"Won't let you down, sir," she replied, before taking off running.
Clover stirred, eyes opening slowly before looking at the clock she kept on the floor next to her bed. Her eyes widened in surprise as she did. It was 6:30 in the morning, she had slept through the entire night without waking up. She realized, for the first time in some time, that she felt truly rested. Rolling off the bed, she looked at the pile of clothing and equipment on the floor. She was surprised to see her stealth suit there.
Why did I even put that on? I must have been delirious, she thought, shaking her head as she picked it up and put it back in her locker. The stealth suit would only make her stand out for what she had planned. Instead, she pulled out the reinforced leather corset she had made, pulling it over her torso before draping a loose-fitting, Brahmin skin shirt over it. Just an ordinary Wastelander, in Rivet City to have a drink and do some shopping. Nothing out of the ordinary at all, she thought smiling to herself as she did.
She became aware as she moved to Rivet City of the eerie silence pervading the DC ruins. Almost no Brotherhood presence, contrary to what she was used to. Not even ordinary people out and talking, like they'd normally be. She arrived at Rivet City without any fanfare, the security guards at the entrance too distracted by their private conversation to pay her any mind, which suited her well. Without a word she made her way into the superstructure and for the Rivet City marketplace.
Arthur was becoming increasingly satisfied that the situation was coming under control, as he directed his fire at the building he had ordered the assault on. He had distributed the others who had been with him to other areas of the COP to assist in driving off the attack, while he coordinated the defense from the CP. They were still taking fire in return, but it was beginning to slacken. He saw, in the distance, Flores begin to run her way back towards his position, some dirt being kicked up by gunfire landing around her feet. The fire began to slacken as she approached him, and he saw the beginning of a smile on her face as she looked at him. It changed a moment later, as a bullet burst through her upper leg, a look of shock on her face as she fell to the ground.
"FLORES!" Arthur yelled, jumping up and running towards her, grabbing the straps of her combat armor and dragging her back into cover. He looked down, seeing how profusely her leg was bleeding. He began putting pressure on the wound, reaching down for the first aid kit on his combat armor and drawing out gauze as her blood exploded over his hands. She looked at him in desperation as she lay on her back.
"Arthur, help me," she said, in a weak and plaintive voice. He looked down into her eyes, putting all his weight behind his hands in an attempt to staunch the bleeding.
"I've got you Flores, you just stay with me. You did so great today, just stay with me," he said, his voice frantic. Her skin was beginning to blanch as she lost blood.
"Please," she whispered. Arthur looked back up, easing the pressure as he watched the life leave her eyes, until she was emptily staring past him and at the grey-green sky of the Capital Wasteland. He rocked back, sitting next to her, and staring into the distance. He realized the sounds of combat had stopped. It was silent now, except for the crackling of burning and the moans of the wounded in the distance. He looked down to Flores, unbuckling her helmet and letting her long, wavy hair spill out, as he propped up her head and back and rested it on his lap. Looking at her again, he closed her eyes for the last time.
"I'm sorry," he whispered back to her.
Clover had made her way to the Rivet City marketplace unhindered, posting up at Gary's Galley while she waited for her target. He took long enough that she even had time to eat all her lunch. She saw him as she scanned the room, standing from her chair and moving towards him, throwing on her best "scared Wastelander" while she did. He looked at her as she approached where he was, standing by himself.
"Excuse me, Chief Harkness?" she said, in her best "help me" voice.
"What can I do for you, ma'am?"
"I saw something that scared me earlier. Can I talk to you about it? Away from here?" Harkness managed to not roll his eyes at her request, but he was certain it was likely nothing. It always was on Rivet City.
"Sure thing, ma'am. Why don't we step out of the marketplace to talk," he said, gesturing towards the stairwell as he did.
"Oh, thank you so much!" She said, following him out of the market and through the winding decks. They eventually came to an empty room.
"So what seems to be the matter, miss?" he asked. Clover quickly looked over her shoulder, confirming they were alone. He realized her expression had changed too late.
"A3-21, initialize factory reset. Authorization code Chi 3-8 Violet." A look of shock quickly passed on Harkness' face.
"Wha…" he began, before his voice trailed off and his head lolled forward. Clover nodded, satisfied it had worked.
"A3-21, reboot to primary directory," she commanded. The Synth stood back up to normal posture, eyes locked forward and on the opposite wall.
"Awaiting reboot instructions," he said.
"Execute reboot using system configuration Courser," she replied. There was a pause, the Synth tilting its head quickly to the side before returning to normal, eyes focusing on her.
"Awaiting orders."
"Enable personality profile from previous system configuration. What is your name?" She asked. There was a brief pause.
"My name is Harkness," he replied, in the voice she had always known Harkness to use.
"Good. Enact mission parameters: Broken Mask," she said.
"Designate specific targets for Broken Mask parameter," he replied, in a monotone voice.
"Priority target identify: Capital Provisional Government, confirm," she said.
"Confirmed, Capital Provisional Government: Lana Danvers, Bannon, Seagrave Holmes, Reginald Rothchild, Sarah Lyons."
"Prioritize target: Sarah Lyons," Clover said, unable to help herself from the vindictiveness she felt towards the Brotherhood. "Execute Broken Mask parameters at next Capital Provisional Government meeting."
"Acknowledged," Harkness replied. Clover nodded, satisfied with her work.
"Good. See you around, Harkness," she said, winking at him as he stared blankly. That would be the biggest concern. Coursers weren't always the most socially astute Synths. Good thing Harkness was already a prick, she thought as she walked away.