January 23rd, 2073 0935L Boston, USA Lieutenant General Braxston
He could still smell it all these years later, a scent which would forever haunt his memories every night he went to bed and every morning he opened his eyes. The smell of war, the burning of cordite, the acrid stench of burning vehicles, and the charred remains of tens of thousands of men hell-bent on destroying another on a battlefield far away from here. For thirty years he had served his nation, a long time in his eyes in a service which was no longer appreciated by the common American. Thirty years of doing the dirty work of Washington, of commanding armies in the field to act as chess pieces for a far wider play. Thousands of men, thousands of American men had died under his orders holding ground or attacking here and there and for what?
Washington?
Freedom?
America?
He hadn't known then, from the day he first accepted the butter bar of a fresh lieutenant to his current rank of a three-star general, he had not known until one week ago. One week ago he had been in Washington, called forth from the front by his superiors for a briefing in which only the most respected could attend, a briefing it was told, would change the world as he knew it. He had been in the middle of fighting off three Chinese divisions in the eastern Philippines, his single American division holding the red menace at bay as tens of thousands of loyal Philippines retreated behind them to fall back to the next line. And he had been doing well, breaking the nose and bloodying the commies wherever they advanced. Estimated enemy casualties were in the ten thousand by the time he left.
But then he had been called to Washington by the Joint Chiefs, higher Army brass than even him and he could only answer the call. So he had left his unit in the field, the successful defense still holding the reds back as he boarded an air force C-145 and headed west. Landing in Washington not a day later he and three dozen other three stars were bussed into the pentagon and sent deep, deep underground, far deeper than he had ever been. When the elevator had stopped he and the other Generals had been escorted by men who wore no uniform or flag he recognized, rather they wore a stylized E on their right side where the stars and stripes should have been.
Taking his seat among the sea of green, white, blue, and the Marine Corps khaki he began to recognize officers he had seen in all his years of service to his great country. General Robert Morgan of the eighty-second airborne gave him a nod as he locked eyes, one eyebrow drawing upward as he nodded toward another a couple seats down from him. There he saw Major General Ruther Craig of the one eighty-second armored, a west coast man. Odd to have both the east and west in the same room especially in a time of war but this was not the usual situation.
"Excuse me, may I have your attention please."
The lights dimmed as all eyes moved to the middle of the curled briefing room toward a khaki-clad officer wearing the two stars of a Major General and once again that same stylized E surrounded by stars on his right side. He wore nothing else on his crisp brand new looking uniform, made in the same style as the usual battle dress uniform of the services. But it was his unusual cheerfulness which immediately drew his ire, for a man to hold that rank, and to wear no camping badges or combat awards spoke volumes in a time when the entire nation was busy bearing the brunt of a global war. This was a paper-pushing officer, a wisecrack who adhered to the homefront rather than the war front, and in his eyes, a coward.
"Good Morning fellow officers and General and may I welcome you to the first meeting of prospective members of the Enclave."
It still sickened him to this day the words which had left that manure cracked mouth, spilling secrets and possible future events which had only made his face go red and his teeth mashing together. The General- no, he was no general of men, rather a toolbag for higher powers. The idiot in tan, better, had spoken of the end times, the end of the nation he held dear, the end of everything as he knew it. And he had said it with a smile, an almost happy demeanor as he spoke about what the future held for this country and the reasons for its demise. Thermonuclear war, an end to all things, a worldwide Nuclear winter. Billions dead, nations gone, peoples, cultures, wiped out in a moment's notice.
And then, then he had spoken words which would forever haunt his psyche.
"The common man will not survive what is to come, and many you know, your commands, your units, and their families will not survive. But you, the betters of this world and the true rulers of our new society will flourish as the world around us dies. Waiting for when the world cools, waiting for us to rise again."
He had said it with a smile, a goddamn smile, in a cheerful tone speaking as if it was funny. His units, his men, his people, the people he cared more for than anything in this world. No.
He hadn't said anything in the briefing, merely biding his time as it ended and rosters were sent out across the room for those officers willing to leave their current commands in exchange for jumping onto this new future. He had watched both Generals Morgan and Ruther as the rosters came to them, both silently passing it on to the next as both met eyes with him. At that moment all three came to a silent agreement they would forever remember to the day they died, a silent oath that with whatever came, they would do everything in their power to keep their men safe. And so the three had met in a Washington hotel that night, held up a bargain brand building as they closed the windows and deployed anti bugging devices to the room before they spoke. Morgan was the first to let out his anger.
"Those pieces of cock sucking shit, bless their fuckin hearts but ill tell you gentlemen what. If I had a gun in that meeting, I would have shot each and every one of those traitors who signed that goddam paper."
Braxston had noted as he left they had been the only three not to sign, the only three who had left silent back toward the elevators and as far away from the pentagon as possible.
"Morgan, I don't usually agree with you southern types but goddammit, I would have joined you if I could."
Ruther was a northwestern man, the direct opposite of the southern "gentleman" that was Morgan.
"We will not allow this to happen."
Both men looked to him with fire in their eyes as they sipped their preferred drinks.
"This Enclave is more powerful than the three of us in Washington. No doubt this runs rampant through congress, the senate, hell, most likely the white house itself. But if we are to fight back, push these assholes back to where they came from, we need to plan now. We need to plan for a future in which all possibilities are on the table and by the way they were speaking they already know nuclear war is coming."
"Nuclear war, nuclear fucking war! Tell you what, what if we strike those godless commies now and take out their nukes-"
"You and I both know that won't work Morgan. They might be godless communists, yes, but they also have a shit ton of men, material, and tech which would turn your division into nothing but cans of meat before they even got to the drop zone. Attacking the Chinese and somehow taking out their nuclear arsenal is out of the question."
"What is we were to attack the Enclave now, in the open, cut out the key leaders and replace them-"
"Civil war, we would be seen and nothing more than rebels and painted as such. No doubt they have control of the media and would easily paint us as the real enemy."
Braxston finally piped up from his own side of the room and an idea that sounded insane was given credence.
That idea was why he was now being driven to the Governor's place of residence in downtown Boston. With his unit being rotated back to the states after a long nine-month deployment, it was no better time to begin his preparation with this first step as they slowly switched back to the peaceful life back at home.
"Approaching residence, ISR do you still have us?"
The radio next to him set in the middle console squawked as operations officers kept to the plan with regular radio checks.
"Confirm, eyes on and live feed running. No threats found so far over."
Ever since the meeting with the Enclave representative a week ago he had begun to get an itchy feeling at the back of his neck as if he was being watched. No doubt his failure to sign onto the new regime had been noticed and they would not allow such an asset to just walk away. No, they would make an attempt to end his life now, before he could become the problem he envisioned himself being. So he had called on some units he knew, requisitioned equipment, and begun moving pieces on the board not even the Enclave would notice. That was why he was riding in an up-armored HMMWV rather than the usual jeep and why two platoons of Rangers from the seventy-six Ranger Regiment along with an ODA from the ninth SFG were tailing him. A quick QRF in a moment's notice from units organic to the commonwealth. Units which he not so secretly commanded.
If that was not enough he also had four A-150s from the forty-fifth tactical attack squadron doing flyovers of the city for "training", training with live ammo in their nose-mounted cannons and anti-air and air to ground missiles on their wings. In addition to the air force jockeys, he had an MQ-5 for close surveillance watching every person and every car he passed by on his way to the governor's residence. The drone operators trigger finger resting on the fire switch for four air to ground missiles ready to fire off should anything happen. But this was all only for his personal security detail, to ward off Red Chinese infiltrators is what he had told the local authorities who had been quick to inform him that he was taking up too much air space. He had told them to fuck off in those exact words.
"Arriving, sir prepare to exit, we'll escort you in."
Two operators, Green Berets, from the ninth were to be his escort. Dressed in civilian clothes that concealed thick plate carriers, they would be his escort anywhere he went. The vehicle stopped at the front of the building, local security already giving the green camoed heavy vehicle a raised brow as the two in the back seat got out and moved around to his side. Braxston rechecked his holster on his hip, mindful to brass check the M1911 holstered there before unlatching his door and taking his first step outside.
Local security was already on them, the mall cops in his eyes forming a bubble as he and his two men were escorted into the building. It was the usual gaudiness of any high political office's primary residence with all manner of flags, emblems, and totems placed everywhere for people to see. But he didn't pay attention to any of this as he and the security detail traversed the corridors, stairways, and elevators before arriving before the governor's secretary busily typing away on a terminal, her eyes failing to move upwards as the directed the General to take a seat.
So she wanted to play the waiting game then, a political act meant to make the appointment maker feel smaller than they were and allow the other person to feel in charge. So be it, he would play her game and she would play his, if she didn't it would be bad for her health. Finally, the receptionist pointed toward the doorway leading to the governor's office just as the doors opened. Braxton moved inside as he locked eyes onto his new target.
Governor Sharon Takuire was a career politician and all-around apt bureaucrat, this he had read from the DIA file he had scraped from the department's network before his meeting here. She had been in government for almost forty years, climbing the ladder year by year until finally she had become the one in charge of the entire commonwealth. Though she dabbled in some minor corruption here and there, handing out favors in exchange for political capital, she was all around the average US politician. She rose from her desk mouth smiling but eyes giving off nothing as she welcomed the General officer into her private office.
"Lieutenant General Braxston, how it is good to see you in these trying times."
He smiled back, eyes giving nothing but a thousand-yard stare in return as he moved to shake her hand.
"Likewise madam, now may we get down to business?"
His question was followed by his two operators entering the room behind him and taking up position on either side of the door as it shut behind them. Both let their experimental AER15s drape out of their jackets, the carbine laser rifles made in the M4/M16s image hang loosely on their slings. The governor immediately noticed the apparent show of power as she let go of her hand and fell back into her seat, the mirage of joy leaving her face and replaced with the cool candor of someone here to do business.
"All right get it out General, you want something and you want to make it look official for the camera and press rather than just take it by force. And by force, I'm talking about the two gentlemen behind you and what was it, one hundred and fifty thousand troops which occupy the greater Commonwealth area. Federal that is, the national guard still answers to me of course."
He had played his card, and she not so slightly had just played hers. The national guard was in fact hers, an estimated five hundred thousand strong reserve of troops meant as a last-ditch effort in the case of war on home soil. So be it, if it did ever come down to it he knew his troops would win in any protracted conflict.
"I want the Berkshire mountains for a new base, one away from populated areas so that I can conduct real training and not deal with the usual thousand or so noise complaints which come to my office every day. My troops need land and the Berkshire mountain range would be an ideal candidate, wouldn't you agree?"
Right now most of his troops were settled in or near the outskirts of Boston itself. Tens of thousands of troops, several thousand tanks, APCs, IFVs, helicopters, jets, and the usual coming and going off air force cargo planes made for quite the racket which the denizens of Boston had come to hate. Getting all those troops, all their equipment, and all that noise away from Boston would only help the Governor in her headaches which came from it.
"That's it? Really? You want some land and to solve a problem for me in exchange for some out of the way land no one cares about? I expected more of you General, I really did. Fine, you want your land, you can have it."
Going to her terminal she quickly wrote up the order, printed it, and signed it, handing the paperwork over to him in no less than five minutes since she had agreed to it.
"And that should be it, signed and sealed General. How long will it take you to move your troops out of my city?"
Construction would take maybe a year's time, all the digging and that didn't even include the movement and construction of the two airfields he wanted, one of which would be built into the mountain range itself.
"Three years ma'am."
"I'll hold you to it."
Boston International Airport, same day. Nora Latham
Today was the day, butterflies filled her chest as College Sophomore Nora Latham awaited the return of her longtime boyfriend and high school sweetheart Nate Baylor as he came home. Two years ago the two had graduated high school and their paths had diverged marking them for what was to come. She had gone to college, attending school and working on her bachelor's degree in Law with the wish of becoming a lawyer while Nate had gone elsewhere. Nate meanwhile had enlisted in the Army, quickly being sent to Georgia for his basic combat training before coming back home and assigned to the thirty-third infantry division.
Nine months ago he had deployed to the Philippines acting as a blocking force against the red Chinese communist as they attacked the prideful democracy of the Philippines. She had watched the news, of course, read and watched the great battles on the TV as she scoured it for any news on the thirty third as they broke the back of the Chinese army on the main philippine island of Luzon. He had left a happy cheerful young man full of vigor and ready to take on the world.
The air force cargo plane came in low and slow, the fat grey colored jumbo jet landing with a scream of its brakes as it taxied over to the awaiting crowd at the man hanger. Its massive nuclear-powered engines basked the crowd in engine exhaust as it turned before coming to a stop and shutting down. Slowly but surely the back ramp opened and the crowd was given a peek at their loved ones as they began to exit the cargo ramp in two orderly lines.
Nora was fluttering now, her eyes scanning over every face as the two lines entered the crowd and began to disperse amongst the families around her. For a full five minutes she stood there nervously waiting for her highschool sweetheart, sweat beginning to trickle down her back as she got nervous before finally, she saw him. He had on like all of the other soldiers the camouflage uniform of the army with all its green, blacks, whites, and tan. He was clean-shaven, his hair cut to a tight edge on the side of his head but it was his face which caught her eye, his face which bore the literal scars of his service.
Bisecting his face and across his nose in a downward fashion was a long healing scar that cut his once handsome features in half. On the lower side of his jaw and on his right ear she noted burn scars as she began to rush for him.
"Nate!"
She called, his eyes moving to her as her inside turned cold, ice cold. His eyes, those cold soulless eyes stared back into hers with an emptiness she could never imagine, a frosty nothing which spoke of only horror. She slowed as she closed the distance, looking over to all of the other soldiers as their families as she noted the same expression on all of them. Throughout the entire hanger, at every family or pair of loved ones, was the same expression on all of their faces. Abject horror written in their eyes, scars which covered their bodies, of wounds none could see on the outside. What was supposed to be a cheery, happy event, quickly turned to something else she brought her arms up and touched his face.
"Nate, Nate, is it me Nora? Don't you remember me?"
He had a new badge with a star above it on his uniform.
"Nora, Nora I want to go home."
He said with eyes that turned to pleading, eyes that spoke of horror long gone from here but still fresh in his mind.
"You are home Nate, you are home."
She began to cry.
One year later. Boston IA, 1000L
Nora was solemn as the troop's trucks began to pull up to the Flightline and yet again, a massive grey colored air force cargo plane began to taxi toward the hanger. This time there were no butterflies, no happiness, just blank. That's what she described it as, not really an emotion or a feeling but rather the lack of one, just blank. Nate's unit was sent to redeploy to Canada now, having been selected for garrison and COIN operations in northwestern Canada. The thirty-third and all its support units were now scattered about all of Boston international airport as dozens of the grey jumbo jets took off or landed every thirty minutes. While they waited she took the time to hand onto Nate.
Over the past year, he had opened up to her about the horrors he had witnessed, of the brutality of man and what they were willing to do to another man. It had horrified her, it still horrified her to think Nate, her Nate, had been a part of all of that. There had been some things though, events, battles, that he wouldn't and still wouldn't tell her though. Something about a hilltop, an important place where he had lost a lot of friends she didn't know, only snippets of what really happened.
Another Air force plane took off, the grey colored jet screeching into the sky on its nuclear engines as it began to bank away.
"It's here."
One of the planes began to move right before the collected mass of the one ninety-eight infantry. As one the seven hundred soldiers of his Battalion began to part ways from loved ones as the plane drew nearer and nearer, Nate holding onto her till the last moment.
"I will be back for you, I promise Nora, I will be back for you."
She held back tears as he pulled his pack onto his shoulders and slung his rifle over his right arm. Her Nate, her war hero Nate, was going back to the hell hole which had made him the shell of what he once was. She hoped he would return the same, not worse, not like last time.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
Two hours later, Vault-Tec wing CIT 1200L
Her tears still had not entirely dried up by the time she arrived at her internship for the day at the commonwealth institute of technology. Nate had left two hours ago and yet all she could think about was that grey colored jet screaming for the sky, its engines giving off a purple flame as it banked north and climbed for the heavens. On her driver over and the subsequent wait in the parking lot, she had simply replayed the events over and over again and she recalled everything, throwing her into yet another tearful fit. Exiting her car she quickly made her way to the vault tec wing of the CIT careful to pass through all the security ringing the structure. Having just passed the outer entry wing that was still outside, she began to hear the double whump of helicopter blades and looked skyward to find the source.
Two of the military's Super Chinooks were flying low and fast over the CIT, the dual rotors masking any type of conversion and sending her paperwork and badge flying as they thundered overhead.
"Motherfuckers!"
She said as the two helicopters went east and away.
1158L. ODA 9423
"Comms silence, you're on your own, COC out."
The van was pulling into the parking garage below the target building, the driver dressed in custodians overall was mindful to swipe his badge and careful to keep his face out of the camera as the vehicle pulled in. It was a bland white, unable to be picked out in a crowd, the usual in a city which required hundreds if not thousands of cleaning vans just like it. And all would have been the same if it hadn't been for the deadly cargo in which this van carried that would soon bring death to this part of America.
In the back of the van, Captain Jacob Macmillan calmly and deliberately went over a functions check with his M4 one more time as the clock reached zero hour. To think he and his team were about to do this, to really put the future before the current, to fire on the people he swore an oath to protect.
Two weeks ago he would never have thought he would have done anything like this. Two weeks ago he had been on leave, enjoying his time away from work as his team had only recently returned from an overseas deployment to Thailand of all places, drumming up support from the locals and raiding Chinese military bases in the region. His team had been accredited with holding down a quarter-million Chinese troops in the region with their raids alongside the locals, further hampering the Chinese war effort. In his mind that was a quarter-million commies not invading Alaska, the Philippines, or any other of the numberless battlefields in which Americans fought on.
But then they had all come home and he had begun to enjoy his comfy stay in his one-man apartment. All would have been well, safe, away from it all, until the phone rang and everything he knew turned upside down. Hearing the ringing buzzer he snatched up the phone.
"Macmillan residence."
"Site Bravo, 1400."
"Uh I'm on leave…"
He didn't get the chance to answer as the line went dead on the other end.
"Goddammit."
He said aloud as he began to put on his uniform once again and head out.
"Cant I just get one fucking week."
A small drive later to an out of the way government building that had no windows and was surrounded by a razor-wire tipped fence, Captain Macmillan arrived to find oddities. Those oddities were more activity at the SFG muster site than he had ever seen in the four years he had been here. Pulling into the parking lot he was astonished to see five tons dropping off dozens of soldiers in full armor, weapons laden with ammo as they prepared to patrol the perimeter. Inside the razor wire were HWMMVs sporting fifty cals with gunners carefully watching all who entered and went. And if that wasn't the weirdest thing, he was pretty sure he spotted two guys carrying FIM-92 Stingers of all things, handheld anti-air missiles on the roof scanning the skies. With a face of what the fuck, he entered the compound and scanned his badge to the gate guard.
The uniform was odd, like his it was of the tactical variety and like his, the soldier before him wore a plate carrier rather than the usual army issue carapace flak. Eyes scanning down to the weapon slung to his front, Macmillan instantly spotted the AER15 dangling before and knew immediately this was no regular soldier. AER15s were issued to SFGs and Rangers only and looking at the face, he knew he didn't recognize the soldiers before him so this had to be a ranger. But what were the Rangers doing at site Bravo?
"Follow me."
Was all the soldier said as two fell in behind Macmillan as he marched into the building. Inside the building, the Rangers led him through the random government issue halls until they came before a random room with no name plaque or name.
"Enter."
Macmillan complied with the unknown soldier's order, entering the office space to find a single man looking back at him from behind a terminal. Macmillan's first thought was goddam, that's a lot of stars at the center of this guy's chest. The next was goddam, that's a lot of badges above his US ARMY tape. Though it took a total of five seconds for the brain to reach the other side of the brain, Macmillan went straight to attention as quickly as he could before the three-star general now looked back at him.
"Chill the fuck out Macmillan, take a seat."
What.
"Yes sir."
Taking the chair across from the General officer, Macmillan quickly began to think back to everything he had done recently, trying to find something he could have fucked up so badly to warrant this.
"Captain Macmillan Jacob, Ninth SFG, two deployments, several awards don't care. I have one question for you Macmillan, are you willing to do whatever is necessary for the security and continuation of this nation?"
Well duh, he was a soldier of the United States Army of course but, the way the General had said it felt off. A question within a question, something wrong.
"Sir, what do you mean anything?"
The answer to that question is what had now sent him and his team to the parking garage of the CIT building. His twelve-man ODA carried suppressed M4s as they collected themselves and the gear they would be using in the back of the van. With blacked-out plater carriers, helmets, and uniforms, no one would be able to distinguish just who they were other than the fact that they had American accents. But that would be covered after this, right now they had work to do.
"Chinooks should be flying overhead, now."
On cue, the dual rotary thump of the super chinooks bounced off the parking garage wall as the two heavy-lift helicopters began to circle the building on a "training mission." Unknown to CIT security of the Boston police department, the two aircraft carried miniature jamming systems configured to block any and all security systems and robots in the technological wing, the target. More equipment slave to the helicopters sent minute EMP blast to the generators of the facility, the miniature blast of radiation effectively cutting the power to the main areas of the facility. Today's mission would either ensure the United states future as a nation or damn them all to nuclear fire. It was to be the blackest of black ops perpetrated on US soil, and the worst had yet to begin.
"Johnson, prep the ladder and charges, were going in."
Nora.
"And this is the vault tec wing, where the future itself is designed right before your eyes!"
Nora, the vault-tec representative named Steve, and a security guard named John entered through the thick security doors and into the heavily guarded research lab. Inside she found that the reps' words were not a lie either as she noted robots, computers, and even some type of fridge-looking device she had never seen before being lauded over by scientists in snazzy lab coats. With Nate still on her mind and the grey cargo planes taking off sending another fresh wave of emotions over her face, she did her best to hide her feelings as the rep began taking her through her tour.
"Now as our legal attorney, it will be your job to make all of this legal. See Vault-tec goes where others won't go, to areas of science many would deem?"
Steve pursed his lips, his eyes looking upward as he searched for the word.
"Reprehensible. As a defense contractor for the US government, we are allowed some leeway when it comes to the type of testing, how it is tested, and on who it is tested upon. Now all of this of course must meet the legal definition given to us by the government, and that is where you would come in. When you do graduate and obtain your degree, you'll be able to have eyes on most if not all of the CITs vault tec wings doing, be that mostly classified information of course."
Nora was drawn toward a robot brain sitting in amniotic fluid, slowly drifting within the device she peered down at the floating brain as Steve pulled up alongside her.
"As I said, we have boundaries and limits we can push. This is, or was really, a captured Chinese soldier taken from who knows where. Now we use the tools he could provide us for something more than the red cause he had once fought for, ingenious, isn't it? Now he's something akin to a supercomputer, an amazing blend of flesh and machine benefiting the free people of the world."
On the outside, Nora smiled and nodded along with the cheery Steve, while on the inside she screamed internally. What the fucking fuck was wrong with these people. Backing away from the floating brain her attention was drawn toward the fridge looking thing before suddenly and without warning, the light went out.
"What the hell…"
John said as he began to key his radio over and over again.
"Control this is research wing, uh where the hell did the lights go?"
Static was his only return, the sound akin to a TV going out of range or losing signal.
"All right everybody calm down, how are the systems, all looking green? The power outage shouldn't of fried any of the components just yet, lets get those backups going while-"
An explosion at the center of the lab sent dust into the air and a ringing sensation to enter everyone's ears. Tables, chairs, and all manner of other equipment was thrown outward from the center of the room as two of the researchers were turned to chunks of meat by the airborne shrapnel. With a wet smack, the two bodies hit the ground as the dust began to permeate the air and make it hard to breathe. Nora was on the ground beside Steve and John, both of the Vault tec personnel quickly looking toward the center of the room from behind an overturned table. John grabbed at the flashlight clipped to his belt, the black object turning on and illuminating what had happened through the smoky gaze of the room. Looking over herself, Nora noted a massive hole had been blown into the floor in the center of the room, the edges of it still a hot red as what looked like the top edge of a ladder was suddenly thrust upward.
"What the hell!"
Steve and John both said in unison as John went for the pistol on his belt, clearing the holster on his waist as two black objects were thrown upward from below and landed on the floor. Nora's last sight before her eyes were blinded and her eardrums ruptured was John firing upon the hole.
With something akin to staring into a thousand suns, Nora was blinded and deaf as the objects exploded before her and everyone else in the lab. She knew she was screaming, but also knew she couldn't hear or see it. Her body shook as her lungs put full power into her scream, her sightless eyes now beginning to cry as she felt the warmness of tears, and maybe even blood rush down her face as her hands clawed at her head and face trying to make it all stop.
The first thing to return was her sight as a small light source came before her eyes in dazzles and rays. She saw John, the security guard flashing his flashlight back and forth, gun in his other hand as he himself tried to recover from the flashbang which had been hurled at them all. Steve was on the ground beside him, curled into a ball and though she couldn't hear it, she knew he was screaming. John stood up, his eyes making movements as sight returned to him as well as he refocused on the hole. He never got the chance to see his killer fully.
Nora followed the beam as he did, her eyes fist going to the hole and seeing dark objects standing between it and the light source slowly come into focus. Weapons, long rifles by the looks of it, the same as Nate had carried as he boarded the cargo jet earlier that morning. Black gear laden down with magazines and more of those cylindrical black objects. Helmets with quad style night vision goggles stared back at her and John as she saw the muzzles turn to fire. There were four of them as far as she could see, another one climbing through the hole in the floor as they opened up. Though she can't hear it, she could feel the heat expended from the weapons as the waves of thermal energy were thrown at her as the three dozen bullets impacted the lone security guard.
John as a person simply ceased to exist, his upper body becoming something akin to hamburger meat as he was thrown against the wall before collapsing to the ground. Blood splashed against her face as he finally went still from the impacts, his handgun sliding towards her and out of his grip. Her eyes locked with the silver-colored weapon, then slowly moved toward the now approaching black-clad men as they now aimed their weapons at her. Her next memory was of a barrel in her face and a rifle butt suddenly slamming into her temple.
Site Bravo, two hours later
In all the raid had lasted around sixteen minutes at max. The data had been downloaded, taken from the Vault-Te archives, and copied a dozen times before being whisked away by the seemingly innocent van quietly leaving the scene of the raid. And all would none the wiser he thought as he sipped his coffee once again. Already he had circulated reports amongst the general population and media that it had been Chinese infiltrators, communist Americans loyal to the reds overseas, rather than what it really was. Of course, there were those who questioned it all, began to speak too much about the chinooks, or a mysterious van seen leaving the scene, but they would be dealt with in due time.
For now, the plan had been finished, and the construction truly began. Already half of the Berkshire mountain range had been hollowed out for his use with the construction crews estimating one more year to finish the job. After that, he would be on a tight timetable where he would need to move his troops, equipment, vehicles, ammunition, and spare supplies as quickly as possible. He could hide the construction of the cryogenic arrays under the pretense of national security, the order already earning enough money to keep the manufacture quiet and his employees none the wiser.
A hundred and fifty thousand pods, enough room to store all the vehicles, troops, aircraft, hell even the small thing he could envision for a future where factories no longer worked. He'd already sent the same plans off to both Morgan and Arthur who had also done the same as him in preparing for the future. So far it was all and good but no doubt this would draw the eye of the Enclave and he had to be ready for what that held.
Three days later.
Fort Hagan, Commonwealth. 1234L
He knew they would come one day for him. One day they would show their hand as they closed ranks, one day where they decided it was time to deal with any loose ends which could possibly endanger their future plans. It seems today was that day he thought, today was the day the true face was revealed. He had been visiting For Hagen for an inspection of troops and personnel preparing to be moved out west to Berkshire. A new shipment of AER15 laser rifles had recently come in to outfit the first battalion, thirty fifty regiment, third brigade thirty-third infantry.
He had just pulled open a random crate of the rifles, his hands running across the smooth composite material and aiming down the sights of America's future rifles. COlonel Umbridge of the third brigade was there with him for the inspection, along with his usual duo of operators from the ninth.
"Good stuff these rifles are sir, the men speak well of them so far and outfitting is running on schedule. So far forty-eight percent of the brigade is already running on these while the rest await more shipments to replace their M16s or M4s."
"Good, it's high time we replace those old muskets for something with a little more power while keeping that same familiar feel."
They were in the vehicle bay under the fort, where the armor of the Biragde was housed in massive underground garages meant to keep the tanks and other tracked vehicles of the brigade ready for use at all times. Today was an off day though, where most of the soldiers stationed here were either home or out on maneuvers in the field. Leaving behind a scant force of one hundred men to guard the new shipments and the equipment left behind. His Rangers were somewhere in the building as well, no bout pulling security at most key points while keeping their eyes open for anything or anyone.
For Hagen was an out of the way base, a military town made up entirely of uniformed personnel base housing was four miles down the road. This left everyone here being military personnel only, therefore no possible civilians in the AO.
Braxston put the rifle back into its cubby in the box, mindful to lay it down softly in the wooden notches inside as he shut the case and began walking with Umbridge.
"How goes the preparation for movement out west?"
Umbridge was a good man and an average officer in his eyes. With twenty-five years of service under his belt he had served his share of time wearing the uniform. But the one quality that made him stand out was his abject loyalty, a loyalty which he owed to Braxston completely, a loyalty which was beholden to no one else.
"Most of our one one threes are prepped and ready to move to the railyards while our Super sixties are proving to be a hassle. Those big bastards are taking up too much room and have to be moved out one at a time so the process takes a while for one to leave the yard."
"And your power armor stocks?"
"Either out on the field with those heavy infantry companies which use them or already packed into shipping containers for the railyard. We got a batch of those new T-51 suits recently and have put them to good use so far. Troops so far have nothing but praise for them."
"Good, there will be more to come."
They continued on past another platoon's worth of Super sixties. The upgraded Pattons had served the US Army for almost a hundred years at this point, upgraded along with their cousins the one one threes every decade to the point they were almost unrecognizable from their original designs.
"Nuclear powered engines, a one twenty with a twenty-millimeter coax, and to top it off two fifties up top. To super see how far these old broads have come."
"Fat things too, the reason we can only get them out of here one at a time."
They continued on, rising level after level as each battalion was inspected for immediate movement. As they reached the stairs which led to Fort Hagan itself, one of his duo, Staff Sergeant Nathan Barns reached for his headset.
"Incoming radar contacts unidentified on scope, giving off no Blue force trackers either. Sir, we need to get you to safety."
"How many?"
Barns face went twisted, listening to the comms traffic before speaking.
"Estimate three Vertibirds and two Super Chinooks. Enough for three platoons worth with heavy infantry as support."
"Fuck, Umbridge who do we have on sight?"
"Hundred clerks, cooks, and other support personnel, and if we know anything about these bastards they are going to send their best. My men will be slaughtered."
"That's what the Rangers are for Umbridge, send out a radio call to your nearest unit in the field and have them return ASAP. Weapons free on anyone not wearing our uniform ya hear."
"Yes sir!"
"Good, we move for the armor and then the command center, clear?"
"Clear sir."
"Then let's move!"
The four soldiers, whose ranks ranged from Staff Sergeant to a three-star General sprinted through the winding corridors and maze of hallways that made up this bay. On the way they passed all manner of troops in varying states of dress as they pulled on blouses or snapped armor pieces into place, all of them carrying brand new and scratch-free AER15s clutched in their hands. The four arrived at the command center's main room to a scene of madness and Rangers and regular thirty-third soldiers used anything and everything to prepare cover for the coming assault. On the massive TV screen which dominated the wall, the live feed from his overhead ISR asset as its camera zoomed in on the five helicopters inbound on the undermanned base.
"Where the fuck is a phone!"
"Here sir!"
A comms specialist handed him a massive handheld radio capable of broadcasting far outside the building using a dish on the roof.
"General Braxston to General Ignus."
Ignus was the commanding officer of his air wings, an air force bigwig, he had met the man overseas and secured his loyalty upon catching back up with him.
The tone ringed for ten seconds until finally, the voice of Ignus came over the feed.
"Ignus."
"Ignus I need birds in the air and I need them now, scramble two of your A-160s and a Gunship because I need it here and now at Hagen. Do you understand?"
"Are they making a play?"
"Correct."
"Roger, scrambling the birds now, estimate TOT fifteen."
"Confirm, I'll call you when this is over."
Slamming the phone back into the comms specialist's chest, Braxston looked over the controlled chaos until he found Umbridge pulling his head from a radio.
"Umbridge!"
"Sir, I've got one of my infantry Battalions mounting up in Super Chinooks they were using for maneuvers, they estimate ten minutes until they're here."
Looking back to the feed on the screen, he noted the aircraft were now circling the compound, some of his troops visible on the roof. There was a flash on the roof as one of his anti-air teams let off a stinger missile toward one of the vertibirds. Though it deployed flares it had been too close, not suspecting the base to have anti-air on the roof. In a second the missile impacted its left-wing and sent the formerly airborne aircraft slamming into the ground, the body of it rolling before coming to a fiery stop. That took out an entire squad, maybe more if the craft had not held any power armored troops. Braxston watched as the remaining aircraft quickly dealt with the threat his men posed, the crew chiefs of the super chinooks cutting them down with accurate minigun fire.
The now four aircraft came in for a landing on all sides of the above-ground compound. One super chinook on either side of the base while the two vertibirds took the others. Ramps and doors slid open as khaki clothed troopers exited the aircraft in droves, followed by other soldiers in power armor whose design he did not know.
"ISR engaging."
They hadn't noticed the drone flying at eighteen thousand feet, nor did they notice the munition now screeching toward them. With the crosshairs centered on one of the super chinooks, Braxston watched as the targeting laser confirmed its lock and the camera shook as the drone let off a missile.
"Ten seconds till impact."
Out of this chinook, he saw twenty-foot mobiles wearing regular plate carriers with five of the power armored troops following close behind. They had set up a defensive circle as they awaited the rest of their men to disgorge the aircraft. It would be their doom.
"Splash."
The missile impacted the rear engine and detonated with a fireball of a miniaturized nuke. As one the engine exploded followed by the rest of the aircraft, the ensuing fireball and wave of shrapnel erasing any evidence of the twenty-five men who had just left the working aircraft.
"Missile two targeting."
The other craft had noticed the death of their compatriot and had quickly begun to apply power to the engines as the last of their soldiers stepped off. With the now burning body and rising smoke of the dead super chinook basking the area in a dark haze, Braxston watched as the crosshairs centered on the nearest vertibird.
"Laser locked, missile off the rail."
Once again the camera shook. The vertibird as if knowing its demise was close tried to dodge and weave back and forth as it climbed into the air but in the end, it was all for nothing. The missile struck center mass, cutting a hole down the center of its frame as the munition failed to detonate while also engine killing the bird. With its control gone and the reactor open to the sky, the aircraft lost power and slammed into the earth, its crew visibly alive but broken on the live feed. A hurrah went up amongst the soldiers still inside the command center but Braxston was having none of it.
"Shut the fuck up! That's still almost fifty of these assholes entering this building and they are most likely their elites. Set up those defenses and prepare to defend yourselves!"
Those that were left quickly went back to pushing crates over, propping up the desk, and overall making anything that could stop a bullet into cover.
"Tetrarch six com in."
"Tetrarch six here."
"How goes the defense."
Tetrarch six was the rangers platoon leader, one Captain Maller.
"I've got squads in four sections of the building to act as QRF should they break through the thirty third. I'll alert you to anything that happens."
"Confirm."
So now it was the waiting game. Braxston, Umbridge, Barnes, and his other, along with fifteen soldiers of the thirty-third left to defend the command room itself for the next ten minutes. The situation was harrying. An explosion on his left announced their breach into the building.
"This is Sergeant Adams, breach in the west wing, foot mobiles pouring in!"
"Tetrarch four moving to assist!"
A ranger squad was already on the move. Reverberating off the corridors BRaxston heard the whine and pop of AER15s mixed with M4s, and what sounded like the ripping sound of miniguns.
"Platoon strength, say again, platoon strength-"
Sergeant Adams was cut off by the sound of a roaring minigun.
"Tetrarch four here, Adams is down."
The western side of the building was falling.
"Sergeant Rogers here! Assholes just breached the east side!"
"Tetrarch three moving to assist!"
"Tetrarch fou-"
Dead.
"Tetrarch two and three, move to the west and east respectively over!"
They were cutting through his men like a hot knife through butter and there was nothing he could do but sit and wait it out. He was trading bodies for time, something which did not sit well with him.
"Northern side here, just took out four guys trying to move west from our position. All are wearing Khaki and carrying M4s over."
"West is falling, say again, they are loose on the west side!"
"Tetrarch two what is your status!"
"Engaged!"
Braxston didn't need the radio to hear the man's voice just down the hall as four Rangers sprinted, guns firing behind them into the command center. To think these were Americans killing Americans, the thought sent acid into his veins. What had been chasing the rangers finally turned the corner, in its grip one of the Rangers held up to its faceplate as it crushed the man's throat and ended his life. Power armor, of a design he had never seen. It reminded him of a bug's eyes glowing in their yellow wand gold rays as it moved toward the command center. In its right arm it held a minigun, he would see this thing die.
"Open fire!"
As one twenty twenty-three rifles opened up.
Armor plates were torn off its frame as it turned to face the collective mass of fire, the user relying on his armor to defend him as plates were turned to slag on his frame. The minigun came up, cutting a small burst across a fireteam killing them all until finally the helmet gave way. With a trio of blasts impacting the helmet the armor and ceramic plates broke and crumpled inward, killing the armored pilot. With a thud the armor fell to the floor, the massive frame leaving a visible impact on the tiled floor as khaki-clad soldiers turned to the corner.
They were armed like his ranger he noted. High cut helmets sprouting headset, plate carriers, thought they carried M4s rather than the AER15s of his men. SAWs and other belt-fed weapons were mixed in with it all but it didn't matter as fire superiority was achieved through his side strength in numbers. Barns appeared beside him, switching to his underbarrel GL he sent one forty millimeter HEDP shell downrange, turning the soldiers into a mass of fleshy paste. But they just kept coming, through their own dead and dying the khaki clad soldier rushed forwards doing everything in their power to assault his position. It was a distraction. One he paid dearly for.
"From the rear!"
While everyone save for two of his men had focused on the nearest threat, they had failed to recognize how the east had already fallen without a word. Men died around him as bullets ripped through flak and plates, the dying crying out as rounds found soft spots and flesh. What had been a one side defense quickly turned into a freefall brawl as every weapon possible was turned in every direction possible. Rounds struck into the Tvs above, cutting the screen live feed as more and more of the enemy piled into the command center. Now in range for handheld grenades, the green baseball-shaped balls of death were thrown freely by either side as explosions began to sound all across the battlespace. Men died left and right all around him, thirty third, the remaining Rangers, all met the same fate as overwhelming firepower brought down the defenders. Barns was right beside him when he fell, a round passing through the front of his mouth and exiting out the back of his head. Braxston failed to notice what was wrong with his man until he saw the bright red crimson beginning to cover the man's black skin.
"Fuck!"
Braxston picked up Barns AER15, unlatching his battle belt he quickly draped the explosive-laden carrying device over his shoulder as he began to systematically fire and reload the underbarrel GL into anything that moved. The launcher fired with a thunk after thunk, him reaching, loading, and firing the weapon until finally his hand met fabric, the belt was empty. Checking the mag he noted a half charge to the power pack, enough for twenty-five shots. The command center was now a hazy mess of burning cordite and black smoke and material and men burned. Through the haze to his front, he saw two people, their identities unknown grappling on the floor covered in soot and burns. With a flash of Khaki he fired, four laser bursts impacted the body on top and sent the now bubbling flesh thing flying.
"Identity!"
"Umbridge sir…"
Getting closer Braxston pulled the Colonel to his feet and slammed an M4 he found on the ground into his hands as they two went back to back, the last defenders of Fort Hagen. The smoke and haze cleared, the fires still burning but now giving off less and less debris to clog the air. Everywhere he looked he saw the OCP uniforms of soldiers loyal to his command, their armor pierced, helmets shattered, bodies broken. They were slumped over barricades, ripped in half by grenades, or shot to pieces by armor-piercing ammunition. They had died for him, they had died for the future of this nation. Like a wave of wind clearing the air, everything which had clouded his vision seemingly disappeared, and what met his eyes sent ice down his veins.
There were eight left. Eight of the khaki-clad soldiers holding captured AER15s or M4s aimed squarely at his chest. One of them wearing a Lieutenant black bar was closest to him, the flag on his right arm once again replaced with that damned E.
"Target sighted, orders?"
The LT spoke into his headset, one hand resting on the mic the other on his M4.
"Acknowledged."
So this was it. All his planning, all his maneuvering, all the blood sweat, and tears he had paid for this nation, this was how it would end.
Or it would have. If he hadn't spotted the literal sea of green camouflage uniforms in full armor and carrying the weapons he bought for them appear around them all. On each and every one of their right sides, they wore the flag of the United States and on their right, the produce patch of the thirty-third infantry division. Noticing the General looking behind him, the LT gave a glance to his rear, eyes most likely bugging out of his head and his army opened up. The Enclave soldiers fell in varying states of death, simply erased under the scorching laser fire of the thirty third. It was over, he had "won".
October 22nd, 2077
Years of preparation, years of making moves behind the scenes, ending lives to get what he wanted, stealing, fighting, or buying what he needed for what was to come. Three assassination attempts, four outright assaults, four hundred dead soldiers under his command. All for tomorrow he thought as he sat back in his chair on this cool October morning, all for fucking tomorrow. It would all end tomorrow, everything he knew and loved, everything he had risked so much for in his time in the service for his country. Pulling at the roster one more time he could only give a small smile knowing how many he would save, how many would survive the coming apocalypse.
Commonwealth state.
33rd Infantry Division.
9th SFG (Abn)
76th Ranger Regiment (Abn)
25th BCT (Abn)
287th BCT (Abn)
123rd Tactical Squadron (Attack)
155th Reconnaissance squadron (Recon)
190th Strategic air command (Nuclear)
7th Marine division
That last one had been one of the more recent developments. He had gotten the ear of one Major General Plumly and had earned his loyalty through the helping of his men for the coming war. They were camped out at Far Harbor, an island chain up north awaiting his signal like those across the country he would soon be sending out.
Northwest commonwealth
182nd Armoured (Mech)
13th SFG (Abn)
188th Infantry division
55th Tactical Squadron
8th Strategic Air command (Nuclear)
The Northwest, a campaign which would only be committed to when the commonwealth and the southern US had been secured. After the east was taken and reclaimed once more, his army of the west would rise.
Southern Commonwealth
82nd Airborne Division (Abn)
1st SFG (Abn)
3rd SFG (Abn)
1st Psychops Bn (Abn)
5th CA Brigade (Abn)
22nd Airborne Division (Abn)
77th Ranger Regiment (Abn)
160th SOAR (Abn)
17th Strategic airlift squadron
His hammer from the sky, his scalpel meant to cause havoc and confusion in the enemy's rear. General Morgan's troops would be vital in the coming campaign as he deployed this massive Quick Reaction Force all across the United States. Upon defrost, they would beat feat for the Capitol. Securing the home of this nation and spreading outward as they claimed the land. The United States would rise again, from the ashes and flames of tomorrow, this nation would once more rise again. He only had to make the call.
Keying the phone next to him he began the chain of events that would lead to the future with a single word.
"Frost."
Note.
Decided to update the story and will begin with the first chapter. Once again will be using mods and other assets either guessed to be in universe or outright replacements.I didn't like the design for the APC or tank so I made a new one.