Hestia Flores sat where she did most evenings, plopped down on a rickety steel stool in front of the bar within the sprawling expanse of the mall-strip turned slaver haven that was Paradise Falls. The makeshift bar and grill was tucked away in a corner of the main courtyard, shielded from the outside world by a motley roof of tacky corrugated steel sheets.

“What shit-stinking hole did they pull you out of, huh?” Ymir, the bearded knucklehead enforcer sitting a few stools away from Hestia, sneered at the bartender.

“Big Town, sir.” Jeff the bartender mumbled in his usually quite tone, avoiding eye-contact with the larger man as he stuck to vigorously scrubbing one of the classes with a grimy cloth.

“Sir, eh?” Ymir pondered, a broad grin creasing his gnarled face “at least this one’s got more manners and sense than the last barman.”

“You sent a pretty clear messages when you spread his brains all across the dirt, you fucking madman.” Hestia teased, smiling her slick smile as she munched on a Fancy Lady Snack Cake, her lips smeared with crumbs and powder.

Ymir shrugged his broad shoulders “Don’t mess with a man’s vodka.” He said plainly, before taking a long swig from his glass.

“Hey, fat-ass!” A gruff voice called out.

Frowning, Hestia swivelled on her stool, catching a glimpse of Eulogy’s second-in-command making his way across the courtyard towards her.

“Eulogy has business with you and your Daddy.” He snapped in his usual drawl. ‘Forty’, as folks called him, was a tall, well-built man, with tanned skin, a scraggily orange beard, and a similarly coloured Mohawk erupting from his rounded head.

“Good thing he sent his little errand boy to come find me then.” Hestia sneered, springing off of her stool. She was a big girl, with an overly-plump form, and her huge stomach oozed out infront of her, pressing against the buckles and straps of the raider armour she’d taken to wearing.

She moved to walk past Forty, but he extended one leathery hand, giving her a sharp push backwards.

“I ain’t no man’s messenger, little girl.” He hissed “And I got more important things to do than fetch tubby porkers from across their eating troughs.”

“You appear to be blocking the path to Eulogy.” Hestia said dryly.

“Know why the call me ‘Forty’, little girl?” the big man jeered.

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.” Hestia remarked, rolling her brown eyes.

“I dun killed forty men in my time, whore.” Forty spat, showing off rows of rotten yellow teeth. “Killed a few fat little Brahmin, too.” He added, looking Hestia up and down.

“Funny you should mention Brahmin,” Hestia replied in her sweetest voice “because it’s my Daddy’s Brahmin caravan’s that ship your slaves all over the Graveyard, and it’s my Daddy’s Brahmin meat that keeps you people fed.”

She took a single, slow, step towards the hulking enforcer, a light smirking creeping across her plump lips.

“We Flores are the only thing keeping this little pile of steel and glass standing, right now.” She snapped coolly “I’m sure that’s managed to worm its way inside even your thick, fucking, skull.”

“Now just a minute-“Forty bellowed, but Hestia kept talking.

“I want you to listen very carefully to what I’m about to say, Forty.” She chided “I want you to learn something important today.”

She paused, looking about steadily, letting her words hang in the air for a short moment.

“Whenever you and your scrawny cock-suckers try and fuck with me, I will fuck you right back. At best, you’re just another small time player, honey bunny, what makes you think you can lay a finger on me and walk away without losing a hand?”

Hestia pushed past Forty, who stood there speechless, and made her way over to Eulogy’s pad. She swaggered confidently across the courtyard, past the small gathers of armoured slavers, her enormous flabby hips swinging back and forth with each step she took.

Eulogy’s pad was a decrepit old movie theatre that had been repurposed after the bomb’s fell. The entry area was cracked and coming apart, with peeled wallpaper and chunks of plaster scattered across the grime-stained floor, and a sickly green mushroom-like substance that gave off a worrying glow was spreading through the cracks in the floor tiles.

Eulogy and her father stood in the front lobby, hurling insults and harsh words between each other.

“This is your fucking problem, use your own fucking men!” Her father, a balding man in a leather jacket and orange tinted sunglasses, snarled.

“This became both of our problems when our operations climbed into bed together.” Eulogy seethed, his dark brow furrowing. Eulogy was a black skinned man, dressed in a rich salmon suit that was too fine to be anything other than a jet dream to most wastelanders, and the tyrannical boss of the slavers in Paradise Falls. “This is my motherfucking territory, and I will not abide being talked back to by some farmer!”

“You’ve got a pretty sharp fucking tongue for someone who was about an inch away from losing control of his own people before my family showed up to pull you out of the dust.” Harold Flores said darkly, staring daggers at the lean figure across from him.

Hestia cleared her throat loudly as she entered the pad, walking slowly over to the two men.

“Your ginger mongrel said you wanted to talk to me.” She called over to Eulogy.

“Ah, Hestia, dearest.” Her father greeted her with a strained smile “Mr Jones wanted to discuss some business with us.”

“Yeah, it sounded there was a lot of discussing going on…” Hestia remarked with a faint smirk.

“The enclave want to open up trading routes,” Harold informed her “but this arrogant scum bag is too cock-sure to send his own fucking men!” her father turned back to Eulogy, spitting more rage at him.

“We just don’t have the numbers to waste time messing around with those power-armoured pricks!” Eulogy exclaimed “business is booming as it is, and our partnership with the folks over at the Pitt is bringing in more caps than I can spend.”

“If it weren’t for me and my assets then you’d be hanging from a lamppost by now!” Harold bellowed furiously.

“I’ll admit your caravans have been useful to me,” Eulogy said slowly “but do not presume to come in here and tell me how to use my men!”

“I’ll go.” Hestia said calmly.

The two men turned to look at her.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Her father scoffed.

“I’m not.” She replied firmly “Business IS booming, but only as long as are operations flowing and functional, and we can’t afford to jeopardise that. I’m the daughter of one of the leaders of this establishment, and I speak with the authority of the Flores family, me going sends a very clear message to the Enclave; that we respect them, and that we value their business.”

“It would allow the girl to spread her wings.” Eulogy pondered, placing one hand on his strong chin.

“I suppose there is some merit to it.” Her father admitted.

Eulogy grinned “Don’t fuck this one up, and there’s major caps for you at the other end.”

“You should probably get going before your mother finds out.” Her father said with a slightly worried smirk.

Longshot crouched, just on the far-side of the Potomac just opposite the Jefferson memorial. The young pulled out his rifle, adjusting the sight he leaned into it. Five raiders, picking clean a brahmin and the four accompanying people only one survivor a kid they had tied up. He placed the cross-hairs on the ugliest looking raider he'd ever seen and then tilted up for distance. The first bastard head exploded, yet even before they heard the second shot he fired on the next scum sucking degenerate his arm flew off and he crumpled to the ground.

Two of the remaining idiots rushed behind a rock, they at least had some sense. However the third, a young women with pink hair rushed over and grabbed the kid putting a knife to the child's throat screaming threats. The BoS sniper lined up the shot, adjusting for the change in wind and height, this would have to be perfect shot to the crown of the head. He took a deep breath then squeezed the trigger, she crumpled the child lay crying in fear. He jumped down from his position placing the rifle back in his bag. He pulled the minigun from his back jumped into the water, wading through he could see the raiders closer now.

The survivors wore a look of sheer terror, they ran tripping dropping their weapons screaming about how they didn't want to die. He didn't care, as he climbed out of the river and up towards shore he unleashed a torrent of bullets. When he stopped nothing remained but red mist and pieces of armor he reloaded the gun then slowly approached the little girl he'd rescued. She rushed backward under a small piece of rubble to hide herself, gently he crouched down taking off his helmet.

She whimpered trying to push further back away from the armored titan. "Go away! Only monsters and Enclave kill raiders!" She yelled throwing a rock at his armor.

Longshot smiled and gently reached a hand out to her. "I'm no monster, I'm Paladin of thee Brotherhood of Steel." He told her, pride in voice as he stated that.

Again the child shook and threw a rock. "No! Mommy said that all of Brotherhood of Steel abandoned us!" She stopped however staring at the marking on his armor.

He reached under the rubble offering the little girl his hand. "I promise I really am from the Brotherhood of Steel. I'll keep you safe." He smiled at her the child grinned back taking his hand as she dried her eyes.

"My daddy lives in Rivet city and my mommy likes in Megaton... I travel with the caravan's to visit my daddy every couple months..." She told him looking around at all the dead. "Can you take me to my daddy?" She asked him quietly. He nodded and carefully patted her head.

"You just sit down and wait a bit, I need to check the area." He told her as she picked up a teddy bear hugging it tightly. He checked the bodies, finding about five hundred caps on the raiders and caravan members he stood up and walked towards Rivet city. "Come on then, I'll take you to your daddy."

"Thank you Mr. Paladin." She said running over staying close to his armored leg. They walked along quietly for awhile, the little girl looking at him. His eyes scanned the city ruins, it might have been his time in D.C. but he'd studied the map. His pipboy would come in handy if ever got lost or needed to remember a certain location, he was glad the Vault had plenty of them.

He put on the radio, Three Dog's station cut in and music floated through the air. The child grinned, finally he after another hour of music and the occasional public service announcement they reached Rivet city. The guard on the other side of the bridge damn near shit himself when he saw a man in power armor walking across the bridge. The only thing that stopped him from shooting was a little girl, one he recognized.

Longshot pulled his helmet on as they arrived stopping by the guard. "Her caravan was attacked, she said her dad's here, as for me I'm on here on Brotherhood business." He told the guard patting him on the shoulder as he turned and walked into Rivet city market. The had run off to find her father, he didn't mind she was probably still scared after all.

The whole market whispered and talked, a member of the Brotherhood of Steel had arrived. He was wearing a pipboy too, maybe that meant the Enclave wouldn't hold them forever. Maybe they could go back to just being a wasteland instead of a graveyard. Whatever it meant, the Paladin took a seat over at Garry's Galley and took off his helmet. He looked around the place wondering how long it would take before someone started asking him questions.

Above the dilapidated rooftops of what was once the capital of the United States of America, a vertibird noisily soared. The distinct noise and silhouette of the Enclave transport was immediately recognizable by those below it, and whatever wastelanders that were scavenging in the ruins quickly ducked out of sight. The vertibird was not coming for them, though. Not today. It had a particular mission today: the eradication of one of the few surviving pockets of super mutants in the D.C. area. There weren't many left, but out of all of the blights still left on the Wasteland, the super mutants were considered by the Enclave to be among the worst.

Within the vertibird, a jazzy pre-war song played, and Enclave soldiers prepared for their mission. Fueling incinerators, calibrating plasma weapons, syncing comms and fine-tuning power armor, the "black death" calmly performed these last-minute preparations. Greener soldiers may have had some degree of trepidation toward their coming mission, but not these soldiers. This team, known as "Vulcan Squad," was among the most decorated in the Enclave, and this was no less than their twenty-sixth sortie.

Sergeant Scott, one of Vulcan Squad's two Hellfire Troopers, sat complacently with his helmet in his lap, polishing the optics. This was all old hat to him, really. He wasn't the highest-ranking member of Vulcan Squad (that distinction going to their pilot, Warrant Officer Bradley), but he was the seniormost soldier, and that brought him a strange sort of ease to him before a mission. It never really got better, but it never got worse, so one usually just got used to it.

Corporal Haverty, sat across from Scott, seemed to think that the veteran soldier was feeling down, and decided to cheer him up a bit, "Hey sarge," he started, his voice modulated by his power armor helmet, "Here's a good one: what did the shrink prescribe to the depressed lesbian?"

Scott looked up from his helmet with a half annoyed, have bemused expression. "What?" he humored Haverty.

"Trycoxagain!" The junior soldier delivered his punchline excitedly, and then laughed to himself. A couple other soldiers in the vertibird chuckled, but most (Scott included) groaned and shook their heads. "Ah, fuck you guys, I thought it was funny."

"Don't sweat it, Haverty." Another soldier, Specialist Crenshaw, said from his corner seat. "Sarge is just sweating his promotion to Ess Eff See, and his imminent retirement following it." More soldiers laughed at this, Scott included.

"Sounds about right." Scott put his helmet on, giving it a moment for the life-support systems to connect and calibrate. "Soon as I get another stripe, bam, they'll have me training up fuckin' recruits back at Andrews. I ain't no fuckin' pogue, that's for damn sure." The other soldiers gave a "hooah" to this.

Bradley called Scott over the radio from the cockpit, "Hey Sarge, come look at this."

Having to duck down to move forward in the cramped vertibird, Scott slowly moved forward to see what their pilot had wanted to show him. Looking out the window in the direction that Bradley was pointing, he noticed a sort of humanoid shape on a rooftop. From what he could tell, though, it was much larger than a normal human. His optics zoomed in on it, and the unnatural skin color and scrap armor confirmed his suspicion.

"Guess one of the mikes we're here for came out to greet us personally," Bradley mused, "That's the building we're supposed to be clearing out."

"He's in our Ell Zee, though," said Scott, "Need one of us to take him out?"

"If you'd be so inclined." Bradley turned his attention back to the controls, maneuvering the vertibird to give one of the soldiers a shot at the mutant.

"I just might." Scott said, returning to the cab of the 'bird.

Picking up his heavy incinerator, Scott signaled his soldiers to strap into their seats, which they did. He hit the lock for the cab door, sliding it open and letting the harsh, hazy sunlight of the wasteland flood into the cab. Bradley had the door about level with the mike, and so Scott took aim with his incinerator and loosed a short volley of fire at the mutant. The vertibird jerked, and his shot went wide. He radioed the Bradley to keep her steady, and received a sarcastic reply. As Scott turned back to the mutant, he now saw what it was armed with. Not a cheap rifle like most of them. Not even a laser rifle or minigun, like the nastier ones. That was a rocket launcher. Scott, alarmed, immediately tried to radio Bradley to pull up, but by the time he had gotten the message across, the mutant had already taken its shot.

Bradley had pulled the 'bird back some, but all that did was cause the rocket to hit one of the engines. The vertibird spun wildly, Bradley desperately called mayday over the radio, and the other soldiers Braced for impact. The momentum of the spinning vertibird yanked Scott right out of its hatch, and though he clung onto a safety handle, he weighed too much in his armor to hold on. He was violently flung into the building next to the one the mutant stood on, crashing through glass and rotten bricks and plaster. Scott soundly banged his head on a wall, and the last thing he heard before he blacked out was a deafening explosion in the building right next to him.

Tasha had the worst last few terrible days. First she barely escaped from an ambush by some raiders. The bastards had their ambush prepared and she nearly walked into it. By some pure luck chance, she changed her route to check some ruined buildings. The place was already trashed long ago and nothing really remained there to loot, but she did notice something from the window of the second floor – the spiky hat someone was wearing. After noticing that, she turned to look all around the street she was about to walk in a few minutes ago. From the benefit of higher ground level, she found a whole raiders ambush on the way.

After that she changed her way instead of raiders stumbled on a random bloke who threatened her at gun point to give him all her belongings. She also had her gun, but her arms were busy holding that radio she found sometime earlier that day. Since that radio was all she found that day, she was planning on selling it for parts once she got to Rivet city, but that was not possible. She knew she won’t be left alive here if she just complied so she threw the radio at the bandit and used the moment chance she got to run the hell away. She felt like she never ran that fast in her life.

Now here she was in the rust bucket know as Rivet city, broke and not able to even get a room at the hotel. All she could do is loiter around the market place since it’s public area. Well she was at least able to afford some food and she feels like she lives better now than she did back at the Commonwealth, but she still doesn’t remember details.

She raised her eyes with curiosity when the whole market seemed to fill up with whispers and talks about someone from the brotherhood. Tasha didn’t know much about them, so her curiosity quickly exploded and she rose from her place, walking slowly to the man who was wearing big clunky power armor.

“Excuse me you are the person from the brotherhood that everyone here is whispering about right?” Tasha asked with her voice full of curiosity and enthusiasm.” Can you tell me more about your people? Everyone here is depressed all the time and only talks about boring old things… such as the Enclaive, The Institute and so on...” She added with annoyed expression.

While talking, Tasha used the chance to examine every detail from the armor and the pipboy she could see. She so wanted to take a peek into the inner workings of that armor, but she had to go with only the outside look for now.

Mr. Smarty pulled the last circuit board out of the Eyebot, then continued on his journey. He needed to find someone who could perform proper maintenance on him, and according to one of the traders he had sold salvage to, Rivet City was the most likely place to find someone with the necessary skill. Luckily he had found some useful components inside the Eyebot and placed them in his weapon repair kit. With the help of a skilled mechanic he should be able to return to full repair.

He activated his internal radio and tuned it to GNR. While he couldn't understand the sexual innuendo in the song, and therefore didn't understand why they wouldn't remove his weapon upon arrest so "chopping on his cell mate" wasn't an option, he thought it was appropriate for the fact that there were so many raiders who actually behaved in such a violent, anti-social manner. He was also used to having music playing in the background, as the Enclave scientist he worked with would listen to GNR when his supervisor wasn't around.

In the distance he heard a vertibird, an explosion which ended the sound of rotors. He doubted any human could have heard it, but his audio sensors were sensitive enough to pick it up. While it wouldn't be accurate to say he was pleased with the attack on the Enclave, he would give preferential treatment to anyone willing to eliminate them.

As he passed the site of Project Purity a caravan saw him and drew his weapon. "Gutsy" he yelled.

"I am not a Mr. Gutsy." Mr. Smarty said, "And do not wish to harm you."

The Caravan guard was surprised that he spoke. "Did someone install a Mr. Handy voice module in you?" he asked, responding to Mr. Smarty's British accent.

"Yes, an engineer working for Robco did over two hundred years ago. Is this the road to Rivet city?"

"Uh, yeah" the man said, unsure of how to respond to an intelligent robot.

Mr. Smarty thanked him and left. An hour later, after talking to and bribing his way past a city guard, he entered the market. From the shops in the area, he assumed that either the gun shop or the junk dealer was his best chance at finding a decent mechanic. He approach the gun dealer. "Excuse me, sir. I was wondering if you had any experience repairing robots?" he asked.

An armed figure rummaged through the empty husk of some office building. The rotting desks and chairs around her were disturbed from their slumber as she searched for anything of moderate value. The vast majority of the room's containers were empty or contained pencils, buttons and other worthless knick-knacks. After a rigorous search through most of the desks, finding nothing of real value, the woman sighed. She wondered how she even ended up in this spot. She shoved a dusty skeleton off of a chair, planting herself in its place. She stared at the skull, its bleak eyes stared back; its gaping maw made it look as if it was laughing. She kicked the skull away, wishing to stop herself before she ended up sharing a joke with the pile of bones.

The woman turned her attention to the window next to her. While it was faded and dusty, it was missing some panes, which gave her a clear view of the area outside. She looked upon the wasteland with a strange mixture of boredom and awe. She had seen the scenery many times, yet the amalgamation of the dreary, morose sky and row upon row of both decrepit buildings and battered cars evoked an emotion like no other. It was a testament to both human ingenuity and idiocy. It all produced a taxing feeling, one that stuck with its wearer and never truly left.

"This is the world we're livin' in . . ." she sighed. With a deep breath, she jumped out of the chair, trying to produce some sort of vigor within herself. The effects of this action were hampered as she heard her stomach grumble loudly, like a child crying out to its mother. She felt a dryness within her mouth as well. She needed some food and water.

The woman dragged herself into the next room, looking for something that could provide a modicum of sustenance. Her eyes were fixated on a stick of wrapped gum. She inspected it carefully. It wouldn't be enough, but it was something. She lifted part of her balaclava so her mouth was visible and gently began to unwrap the gum. She threw away the wrapper and stared at the gum with reverence before devouring it in the blink of an eye. The gum gave her a fleeting feeling of pleasure; some of its sugar particles still stuck after all those years. She eyed the wrapper and the words pasted on it. 'With real PIRATE TATTOO' were written in large black letters under the blue logo. She inspected the wrapper. Lo and behold, the "tattoo" was still there, although its dye was faded and it most likely wouldn't work. Still, she figured she could use it somewhere, so she placed it gently into her uniform pocket. The woman placed the balaclava back over her mouth and continued on her hunt for food.

It took her a while as she traversed over rubble while climbing the stairs, but soon, she found what she was looking for. A faded sign hung above a doorway, "Lounge". Within the room she saw a fridge and a Nuka-Cola machine. She silently celebrated as she ran towards the machine. The woman gently placed her gear on one of the tables within the lounge and began messing around with the apparatus. The woman shook the machine and heard the unmistakable sound of a number of bottles rattling. It was quite the conundrum trying to extract the bottles from the machine, but she managed to secure four Nuka-Colas, two of which she drank almost instantly. She began to search the fridge, elated that she was able to find such a cache of foodstuff. The fridge wasn't as exciting, as it only had some Cram and a few Salisbury Steaks, although she didn't complain.

Not long after she had eaten her fill, the woman heard the unmistakable sound of a Vertibird. She rushed to go see what it was doing, her heart racing. She hadn't heard the familiar buzz of those rotors in a while. The roof was just above her and a collapsed portion of it gave her a good pathway onto the top of the building. She took caution, her heart racing, hoping that they wouldn't shoot at her or land on the building she was in. The last thing she wanted was a shootout with some armored goons. Yet she soon saw that it was targeting one building with some Super Mutants plaguing it. Although this did little to ease her worries, she now also worried for the safety of the Vertibird. The Super Mutant that adorned the top of the infested building was outfitted with a rocket launcher, which she soon noticed but it seemed that the Enclave Vertibird didn't. As one of their men blasted a volley of fire, the mutant reciprocated with a clean shot back at the Vertibird. The woman watched in horror as the Vertibird spun out of control, flinging one of its men straight at the building she was in. She looked straight at the mutant, and for a moment it seemed as if the beast had smiled.

The woman ducked back into the building as she heard the explosion caused by the Vertibird. It took her a while to remember that the man crashed into her building and was probably on the same floor she was on. Adrenalin raced through her body; this entire scenario was too much to take in at once. She rushed to find where that soldier had been dropped, finding him propped up against a wall. It looked as if this guy had taken quite the bump to the head. She approached with caution, her heartbeat increasing with every step. She aimed her assault rifle at the soldier's head, as a precautionary measure, but she really didn't want to kill this sap. It was clear to her that this goon was out cold and was in no state to attack her. She tried pulling off his mask; it took a bit of elbow grease but she was soon able to reveal this soldiers face. The soldier was an older man, at least, older than her, and was clean shaven with short hair. The woman wasn't sure what she was expecting, but she figured he was kind of cute. She placed his helmet next to him as she moved back. She kept her gun pointed at his head as she sat herself down on one of the office chairs, prepared to sit with this guy for a while.

Jim looked out the window on the third floor of a bombed out building overlooking some supermarket. several bandits had taken up residence there, and Jim was hungry. he peers down the scope of his sniper rifle to study the bandits farther. without taking his eyes from the bandits he says in his ghoulish rasp "what do you think Frank? looks like there are only three of em." Frank (the baseball) who is also sitting on the window sill does not appear to reply in any way. "Oh, don't be like that. I'm sure we can take them, and your silence isn't helping." Jim straps the sniper rifle over his shoulder and retrieves the 9mm from its holster, also putting Frank in a specially designed net hanging from Jim's belt. he descends from the building quietly and easily.

when he gets to the ground floor he watches the waits until the bandits stop paying attention to his side of the road and crosses the street so he is along the side of the building where the bandits can't see. He edges up to the corner so that he can see that bandits, the third one must have gone back inside because there where only two standing out here. he reaches down and takes Frank from its secure netting. "Ok Frank, you take the one on the left." says Jim a low whisper the bandits never heard. The bandits where standing facing away from the corner and talking very excitedly about something or other. Jim uses this to his advantage and creeps out from behind the corner and yells "Go get em Frank!" while throwing the baseball with all his strength. Frank slams into the base of the left bandits skull knocking him unconscious, at the same moment as though practiced a thousand times Jim draws his 9mm and puts three rounds into the Bandit's chest killing him just as he turned around. he walks over to the unconscious bandit and shoots him in the back of the head.

Jim picks up Frank "Good job Frank. I knew we where up for it." he puts Frank back into the netting on his belt and begins to strip the bandits of their gear. he finds about a dozen caps and a couple knives. one of the bandits was wearing a gas mask which Jim removes and drops into his pack to cannibalize for parts later. lastly while searching the satchel one of the bandits carried he found several Energy Cells and a very crude laser pistol, which he stripped apart and removed several pieces that where in excellent condition. these pieces could be used to repair other energy based weapons or, possibly, some robots. the rest he just dropped on the ground as useless. "Alright Frank, lets see what they got inside". The baseball still seems not to illicit any reply.

The pair go inside cautiously but are not immediately greeted with a screaming maniac or gunfire, which seems to be a good sign. "I like what they have done with the place" says Jim, Remarking on the broken bodies hanging from the ceiling by meat hooks or the tastefully arranged corpses in the corner. Frank does not have any opinion on the matter. "Fine fine, i know. we want salvage." Jim creeps along the isles pausing occasionally to retrieve some long forgotten food item. he makes his way back to backroom and finds the last bandit sleeping on a mattress in the middle of what might have been a manager's office. Jim levels his 9mm at the bandit and easily shoots him in the head twice. Jim goes through the Bandits gear but finds nothing terribly useful save for a handful of caps. He continues searching the back room with no avail, until he finds a locked door, he manages to pick the lock although with some difficulty. The door opens to a store room of mostly cleaning supplies which Jim ignores. in the back of the room there is a soft glow of a computer terminal, next to the terminal is a broken Protectotron. Jim jumps in glee, "Yes! you see this Frank? we sell the parts of this thing back in Rivet City we will eat good for a month." Jim begins taking the Robot apart and placing serviceable parts into his pack, after over an hour of salvaging the robot he packs up his tools and newly acquired gear and moves on to sell the stuff in Rivet City.

As he walks he tries (poorly) to whistle a cheery tune through his rotten lips.

Hestia set off from the gates of Paradise Falls, accompanied by a great lumbering Brahmin that was piled high with crates full of different meats, snack cakes, bottles of Nuka Cola, and other supplies to help the young woman through her trek. An irradiated wind howled mercilessly past her as she wadded over cracked and blistering soil, sending her blonde tresses billowing back behind her. The Brahmin proved to be one of the more domesticated sorts, plodding along loyally behind Hestia as she made her way gradually through the Graveyard. Her legs ached regularly, and her rumbling stomach seemed to provide the constant booming backing track for her journey, so progress over the bleak earth was slow at best, with regular stops to feast and recuperate.

Great rocky mounds littered the desolate landscape, dotted with the withered remains of long dead blackened and sickly trees, their leafless branches extending outwards into nothingness. Pools of putrid water lay still in the gapping pot holes which sunk into the crumbling ground, and the odd rickety shack or abandoned cave supplied shelter for Hestia and her Brahmin on their frequent rest breaks.

The dim sun was poking through a blanket of foggy grey clouds when the young woman reached the Drowned Devil’s Crossing, her faithful Brahmin wheezing drearily as it trudged along behind her, blowing air out through its duel heads. The bridge itself had broken into several sections over the years, some of which were mere inches from tumbling into the greenish waters below it, which made the prospect of crossing the bridge even less enticing to the portly slaver.

Hestia was awkwardly trying to lead her Brahmin over the loose stone bridge when raiders appeared, slipping out from behind the trees and rocks which ran along either side of the riverbank.

“Careful now, Missy.” A dark-skinned bandit called out to her, springing onto the bridge with a big grin plastered across his hard face and a revolver clutched in one hand, as he came striding towards her. “Things could get real messy real quickly.”

“You appear to have caught me with my pants thoroughly down, good sir.” Hestia shouted back, one fat hand tied loosely around the harness she was using to guide her Brahmin along.

Two more raiders, great big hulking giants of men, fell in beside their comrade, and Hestia could hear muffled footsteps creeping up behind her.

“Should’ve known better than to go stomping across the Devil’s Crossing, little lady.” The dark-skinned one scolded with a sneering laugh.

“Too busy stuffing your face to pay attention to the world around you, huh?” a voice called out from behind her, eliciting a few laughs from the other raiders.

“Sure beats getting all tired and dusty out here,” Hestia said with a loose shrug “There’s enough sand up my arse crack right now to make a sculpture.”

The dark-skinned raider smirked slightly “I must say; you’re being awfully calm about this whole messy business. It’s a real breath of fresh air.”

“Well,” Hestia remarked coolly “I don’t know what’s going to happen yet.”

“Then allow me to be kind enough to walk you through it all, my porky princess.” The dark-skinned one shot back “based off of past experiences.”

He cocked back the hammer on his revolver, aiming it squarely at her head.

“First, me and my boys are gonna come over there and give you a real careful pat down. We ain’t ever had ourselves a fat chick before, and I wanna see if you’re as blonde down under as you are on top.” He took a few more slow steps towards her, showing off his sharp yellow teeth.

“Then we’re gonna put a bullet in your brain and cook ourselves a great big bowl of white girl. We’ll probably keep all the important bits around until they got rotten, as –you see- it can get real lonely and tiresome out on these great big winding road that us depraved souls call home.”

“Thanks for clearing that one up.” Hestia said casually.

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation, little missy.” The dark-skinned bandit hissed, his brow furrowing. He was looking for precisely the reaction that she wasn’t giving him.

“Maybe I need you to come over here and spell it out for me.” She cooed, making a drawn-out wanking gesture at him.

“I’m gonna punch that smile right off of your fat cunt face!” He snarled, stomping towards her…

And straight on to the rusty old mine she’d placed under a smattering of little pebbles.

His boot-clad foot pressed down on the explosive with a mechanical thud, right before the ensuing detonation sent it flying off in the other direction. Shrapnel came raining down on the bridge, and a plume of smoke spilled out across it in a great cloud of dust.

Hestia slung her combat shotgun off of her shoulder and fired two rounds off into the fog, which were promptly met with a satisfying wet squelching sound.

Move quickly. Keep the momentum going. Don’t fuck this one up

She spun on her heel, turning to face the other bandits who’d come creeping up from behind her.

One of them, a scrawny Latino, raised his handgun and fired off a few shots, which whizzed straight into one of her Brahmin’s chunky leg muscles. The great cattle let out an irritated grunt, but otherwise stayed put, having been trained and bred to deal with such conditions.

Hestia raised her shotgun, letting off a powerful blast which hurtled through the air in an eye blink, smashing in to one of the raider’s chests and knocking him to the floor, dark red blood bubbling in his open mouth.

The young woman fired again, her shotgun letting out a booming steely clang which rang out into the surrounding area, blowing the head clean off of another bandit, a fountain of gore spurting out of his bloodied stump as his limp body tumbled softly to the floor.

A bullet flew past her ear, an inch away from ripping straight through it, prompting Hestia to blast a bloody gash straight through the shoulder of the last raider standing. He let out a sharp scream and went stumbling backwards, tumbling over the ruined bridge and down down down into the waters below.

Hestia came swaggering through the smoke, her Brahmin plodding along behind her, to find the dark-skinned raider clutching at his mangled stump of a leg, propped up against the twisted bodies of his fallen brothers-in-arms.

“You need to get some women in your gang.” Hestia laughed “they’d have been smart enough not to go wandering on to an active mine.”

“F-fuck you, b-b-bitch.” He hissed through gritted teeth, his nails digging into his charred flesh.

“I think you’re going have to factor that part out of your little plan.” She said down at him, offering up her sweetest smile. “Heck, for all I know you magic flute just got blown clean off.”

“G-g-reat o-o-old lumberin’ beast like you won’t m-m-m-make it another d-d-ay out here.” He spat, his pain-raked body shaking and twitching.

“I dunno,” Hestia smirked “I reckon I’ve got the hips for it.” She struck a quick pose, placing her chubby hands on either side of her huge flabby waist.

“This w-r-w-r-w-retched f-fuckin’ p-p-place is a great big jungle of hate, built on the r-ruins of the d-d-dead.” He snarled, coughing up a mouthful of dark red droplets “It’ll c-c-chew you right up and s-p-s-p-s-pit you back out again.”

“Even a cute little thing like me?!” Hestia gasped mockingly, placing one hand over het plump mouth.

The bandit let out a sharp cackle, spraying blond across the crumbling concrete bridge “Y-y-you g-gonna die, w-w-whore.”

“We’re all gonna die someday,” she shrugged “but now just ain’t my time, honey.”

She picked all their corpses clean, leaving the dark-skinned raider to bleed out, howling curses after her as she strode off into Graveyard with her Brahmin trundling behind her, a song in her step and a whistle on her lips.

In one of the many side streets of D.C., Terry crouched behind an ancient car. He peeked over, trusting his camouflage to keep him hidden. Forty feet away stood three Enclave soldiers on patrol. Terry had been tailing them for over two hours, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. If the bastards would just stay in one area he could deal with them, but they kept walking past other patrols in the streets. It took all of Terry's patience to remain hidden.

Three years. Three years since his kin were killed without warning. Three years of waiting, running, snapping necks and shooting Enclave soldiers until they turned into plasmic goo. He had lost count of how many small patrols he had killed. This would just be one more notch for his belt, if he had one.

Terry turned his attention back to the soldiers. They had stopped, the lead one raising his fist. Both soldier and ghoul waited.

The bark of an assault rifle shattered the relative calm. The two soldiers in front took cover, taking aim with their plasma rifles. The one in the back, a hellfire trooper, hefted his incinerator and fired off volley after volley at the super mutants who had just surprised them.

This was his chance. Terry rushed up to the hellfire soldier. He clambered onto the soldier's back, then hammered his fist into the top of the helmet. This forced the seals in the helmet too hiss and unclamp, rendering the servos in the neck area inert. Before the dazed soldier could do anything, Terry twisted the helmet around and snapped the man's neck.

The corpse fell, the power suit crashing to the ground. The two soldiers in front were still busy shooting at the super mutants. Terry eyed the dropped incinerator with calm satisfaction. He picked it up.

"Derrick, what the hell are you doing!? Keep them suppressed!" cried the lead soldier. Terry decided to oblige the man, but instead of firing at the super mutants, he aimed and shot the incinerator at the sergeant. It was unwieldy, and Terry had rarely if ever fired a weapon this big. It didn't matter though, considering the size of the projectiles and their area of effect. The first soldier was doused in flames, and he cried in pain and shock as the napalm-like substance burned through his armor.

It was at that point the last soldier turned around. Dropping the incinerator, Terry rolled to the side and activated his cloak, the plasma bolts missing him by a wide margin. Now it was just the lone soldier against two remaining super mutants. Terry decided to wait it out. He would kill whomever came out of the firefight alive.

Several minutes later, during which time a Vertibird had flown by in the distance, the battle was over. The Enclave soldier had become victorious through his superior weaponry and armor, though his backup was dead. Terry got in position to finish the job. He snuck behind the soldier, who was cautiously surveying the area for the mysterious figure that had killed his friends.

Same as before, Terry thought to himself. He jumped onto the back and slammed his fist into the helmet. Then something unexpected happened.

The soldier reacted quicker than Terry thought possible, grabbing Terry's arms and throwing him bodily to the ground. The wind was knocked out of him, and he saw the Enclave soldier bending over to pick up his dropped plasma rifle. He needed to act. Terry flipped over and tackled the power armored soldier. The man was pushed back slightly, but stayed standing. Now both men were grappling with the plasma rifle, trying to wrest it away from the other. Thinking on his feet, Terry pushed instead of pulled the plasma rifle, staggering the unwary soldier. Terry clenched his cybernetic fist.

He punched the man's visor. It cracked. He punched it again. The cracks spider-webbed. Terry grabbed the plasma rifle from the soldier and rammed the stock into the visor, shattering it completely. Terry flipped the gun around and aimed the gun into the man's exposed eyes. Was that terror he saw? Confusion? Shock? The glazed over eyes of a man suffering from a concussion?

Terry pulled the trigger.

---

It was a good haul, Terry decided. Three helmets to add to his collection, two plasma rifles to repair and modify, and a load of caps and microfusion cells. The armor and incinerator he decided was dead weight, so he left it there.

His job done for the day, Terry decided to head to Rivet City. He could burn some caps, maybe repair his aging pistol, or maybe replace it with something a bit better.

In the distance, he heard a rumble and a boom. Thinking back, Terry decided it must have been the Vertibird from before. It must have crashed, he thought. A small grin crept onto his face.

"This day just keeps getting better, huh?"

Longshot paused looking at the young woman before him before sighing. The cook placed a meal infront of him, Brahmin steak. "Free of charge, you Brotherhood folks are the last ones trying to do right by us wastelanders." The cook told him before walking off.

Longshot cut into the steak and began to eat, in between bites he spoke. "Well I'll give you the short version, Brotherhood of Steel comes from California aka the otherside of the entire wasteland." He told as the Paladin filled his belly. "We came to the capital wasteland looking for tech... Our Elder at the time... May he rest in peace. Changed our plans, we set up a base in the husk of the Pentagon and began to fight super mutants, which at the time owned the wasteland." He stopped eating now to speak more clearly. "We began to take in locals, train them and drive back the hordes of mutants. Yet that changed, the day we took in the Lone Wanderer to here Sarah Lyons, our current Elder tell it they trained him, helped him, and in the end he sided with the Enclave." He looked back towards the door.

"The water in the Potomac... It was supposed to be clean, fresh drinking water for the whole wasteland, free to everyone!" He said with a sigh. "It the father of that Lone Wanderer's dream, to give the people who live in the wasteland fresh clean drinking water. Lone Wanderer himself however poisoned it, it's why the folks don't drink it. It's clean but if your ghoul, slightly mutated, or super mutant it will kill you dead." He sighed and looked back at her. "After that... Well BoS went down hill, we lost our Super weapon, our home, and most of the Brotherhood. We retreated, spent years building up numbers and hiding. Now were going active, were going to start offering training and a chance to fight for freedom." He pushed the steak away and pulled the canteen from his side taking a long drink.

Longshot looked at her. "I plan to take the fight Enclave myself, because I am never losing my home to a bunch of Enclave sons of bitches again." He noticed that more than just the girl had hung around the diner, many ears were now listening. To them he was about the only thing that face the Enclave, raiders just died, a merc's could handle them but no real fighting force. "We beat them, once back west under a different President and the way I figure it it's about time for round three... This time we aren't stopping till one of us is gone." People began to whisper again and he looked at the girl. "If you wanna here more I'm rolling out of here tomorrow. Gonna see if anyone is interested then head back up towards home. Gonna stop in and see Three Dog to maybe."

He paused and looked over giving a whistle he spotted a robot, Mr. Gutsy model but different. He'd fixed Sawbones and Andy before when the scribes were busy. "Hey robot, I can fix you up. Won't even ask for caps, I like the work and it's better than bounty hunting." He grumbled his boots clanking against the floor. "Though I would think you would be more at home somewhere less violent." He told the machine.

Looking back towards the girl he'd just been talking to he paused. "Hey girly, you were eyeing my armor and pipboy if you know your way around a machine mind giving me a hand." He said looking back at the robot before him.

He stopped in front of it and looked him over. "Your no gutsy over even a handy... Your a custom model or an experimental one. Ought be some place safe, or least with someone who knows your value." The Paladin said setting down his weapons. "You would be better off in BoS that's for sure." Longshot told the robot. "So mind letting fix you up?"

Tucked away in a corner of the bustling markets of the Lower Decks of Rivet City was a clinic creatively named "the Clinic". It was said behind the sheet metal walls lived a cynical demon who care little about life yet could preform miracles. He didn't care if you lived or died or was crippled for life, he just wanted to get paid. And that one snarky, snarky demon doctor had a name, Odysseus.

"Alright, get your ass on a bed before I weld you to it. I'll be over in a second." Odysseus didn't even look up from his little chemistry set as a gunshot victim stumbled into the building.
"I-I wa-was up on t-the d-deck and s-s-someone to-took a p-potshot at m-", the man blubbered on.
"Shut it and get your ass on a bed." the doctor gave the man a sideways death stare, "Don't tell that to me, go bitch about it to the head of security."

Obediently, the man collapsed on to one of the four beds, divided with old shower curtains and poorly made quilts. The beds themselves were patchwork cloth stuffed with grass or shreds of other soft things on a mix of wooden crates and a dentist seat Odysseus managed to dig up on his travels (he called it the "luxury chair"). Odysseus's desk where he did paper work and mixed up chems was right in front of all the beds, a filing cabinet leaning against the counter.

"Now, let's see what kind of stupidity you managed to inflict upon yourself today." the doctor got out of his chair and walked towards the man, pulling a makeshift lamp on wheels over to see.

The wound was from a .32 caliber round judging by the hole it left, most likely a raider having some target practice. The wound itself seemed to have travelled a while, made a nasty hole but not all the deep, just above the liver. A quick fix ought to repair the wound, but not the man's stupidity.

He pulled out a bottle of fine vodka, the kind that'd knock you out in a few sips, and pours a bit on the man's wound. Ignoring the man's pained voice, Odysseus summoned forth a syringe of Med-X and shot it next to the hole; a pair of tweezers came from the dark depths of a medical table and began digging into the human body. Bits of blood and skin came out, only to be sponged by a piece of (arguably) clean cloth. Soon enough, the bit of metal bullet decided to get out and clinked to the ground.

"There you go, want to keep this as a sunveior to show your mother how strong and brave you are?" Odysseus half-mocked as he wrapped a bandage around the man, drawing a smily face after he was done.

However, the man did not respond, turns out Odysseus didn't give enough Med-X and the man passed out from the pain. Oh well, they say that people need time to rest after surgery anyways, might as well do it now. The doctor turned away from the man and returned to his chemistry work, in a few hours he would either wake the man up or throw him back out. Ahh what a wonderful life.

Scott wasn't out for long; only maybe about fifteen minutes. The impact to his head had been fairly severe, but duraframe armor had helped greatly in mitigating the blunt force. He blearily rolled awake, the light pouring in from the hole he had made in the wall stinging his eyes. He immediately wondered why he smelled dust and decay, rather than the clean, filtered air his helmet provided him. His eyes were still bleary, but he saw a silhouette in front of him. He instinctively reached for his sidearm, but upon hearing a rifle being charged, he stopped at blinked a few times to get a better look. There was a girl in front of him, casually pointing her rifle at Scott's face. She seemed quite young and a bit on the small side, but her relaxed posture and dust-streaked face and clothes outed her as an experienced wastelander. She wouldn't give a damn if she had to blow Scott away right here and now. Hell, she could probably make a killing off of his weapons and armor. He had to be careful about this if he wanted to get out alive. Oh, but damn did his head hurt. He gritted his teeth and squinted, trying to keep his sight focused on the girl despite his swimming head.

Lifting up his other hand, he slowly reached with his left into a small pocket on his armor. Very careful to not make any sudden movements, he unbuckled the pouch and produced a sheet of white cloth, somewhat larger than a piece of paper. He unfolded the cloth, showing to the girl the American flag emblazoned on it, as well as several paragraphs of text in various languages.

Trying out his own voice, Scott croaked, "You know what this is?" He coughed, the dust in the air thick on his tongue and harsh on his throat. "It's called a blood chit. You get me back to my people, and you'll be rewarded. Handsomely."

Scott kept perfectly still, one hand in the air and the other holding the blood chit aloft. He continued to squint at the girl, as his mind raced. Where was his helmet? What was the condition of the rest of his armor? Where was his squad? How many were alive? There was so much that worried him, and the last thing he needed was some scavenger thinking that it was their lucky day.

“Ehhhh… I see.” Tasha began nodding as the man explained who the brotherhood was to her and what had happened. She didn’t find it strange she didn’t know about any of that since her memories were pretty much summed by a few confusing images and feelings. She did raise an eyebrow at the mention about the river water though. That was a very evil thing to do, but the machine that caused that, must have been something amazing.” If that’s the case, can’t your people just reverse the effect the same way it was caused or maybe just change to normal water? Logic dictates that if something like that was done, it should be possible to reverse it.”

“…” The girl was speechless when she noticed the talking robot flying in. Her curiosity immediately kicked into overdrive as she felt the insanely strong urge to run next to it and start asking questions, observing it from every angle and if possible getting a look at it’s programming. The paladin’s words snapped her from her brief trance as she looked at him with a nod.” Yes…” Was all she said, then shook her head.” Yeah, I know a little bit about machines and electronics. My name is Natasha by the way…” Tasha stated as she ran after the armored man to catch up with him.

She listened as the man reached the conclusion the hovering robot was some kind of unique model at present. Her eyes quickly opened wide with the growing desire to get to know more about it.” What do they call you? You can call me Tasha.” She asked the robot and began circling all around it.” Who made you? When were you made? Where were you made? Were you able to talk since the beginning? “ Tasha began throwing great number of questions to the robot. She couldn’t help herself, her curiosity often got the better of her and this was such case. “Hey, is that an arc welder?” The name of the tool flashed in her mind. She must have used one at some point in the past, but couldn't remember when or where.

Suddenly as she walked around the robot, she tripped over something and fell flat on the ground. She looked at her feet, only to see that she tripped over some cable. The girl quickly stood up, patted her clothes a little to remove the dust and tried to pretend it didn’t happen.

"Hey robot, I can fix you up. Won't even ask for caps, I like the work and it's better than bounty hunting. Though I would think you would be more at home somewhere less violent."

He doubted the man's motives were altruistic, and judging by the last sentence the man was likely going to try and recruit him. "Yes, I would prefer a less violent place to work, but the last place I worked I discovered that they had betrayed me."

The man looked him over. "Your no gutsy over even a handy... Your a custom model or an experimental one. Ought be some place safe, or least with someone who knows your value." The Paladin said setting down his weapons. "You would be better off in BoS that's for sure." Longshot told the robot. "So mind letting fix you up?"

A woman also started asking him questions. "What do they call you? You can call me Tasha. Who made you? When were you made? Where were you made? Were you able to talk since the beginning? Hey, is that an arc welder?" He decided to answer their questions.

"Yes, I am a prototype by Robco, the Mr. Smarty prototype, designed for engineering and barter. I was constructed before the War, though I was turned off and placed in stasis until a few month ago. A Mr. Handy voice module was part of my original design and yes, that is an arc welder. If you wish to repair me, then we should get out of the main isle." He moved to the workbench near the entrance and removed his repair kit, placing it on the table. "All of the components I've collected for my repair are in there. Because I don't know you, however, I will remain on during maintenance, and will not hesitate to defend myself should you attempt to deactivate or harm me. If you wish to talk during the procedure, however, please explain to me why I should aid the Brotherhood of Steel. I heard what you told her about your mission, but other than desiring the defeat of the Enclave and an appreciation of the music of GNR, I'm not certain that our goals align."

The Vertibird tore through the clouded sky above, swooping over the derelict DC buildings as its twin blades chopped back and forth. Within the bowels of the sleek steel gunship, Lieutenant Elijah Myers addressed his power armor-clad squadron.

“For too long has this hive of mutant scum and degenerate outlaws been allowed to exist unchecked.” he barked, fighting to be heard over the roar of propellers. “This ‘city’ is an aberration to everything we hold dear, and an insult to the core principles of our glorious Enclave. As patriots of the true America, it is our duty to see these traitorous dogs sunk to the bottom of the sea!”

His cold grey eyes darted over the assembled soldiers, looking each and every one of them up and down.

“Our spies inform us that the research laboratory within this decaying vessel holds the secrets the agitators used to develop Project Purity, which will allow us to unlock a superior understanding of our new greatest asset.”

His face was a stern mask of determination, his eyes burning with the roaring fires of conflict.

“The steady road to rebuilding is already underway, and with the Intel we gather here today we can strengthen our presence in this desolate graveyard, and take the next few bold steps along that magnificent path to restoring the Old World.”

“We will take the fight to this up-jumped raiders, we will take the fight to this damnable ‘Institute’, we will take the fight to all those who would stand in the way of the American Dream, and we will crush them beneath our iron heel!”

A collective roar of ‘HOOAH!’ rose up from the squad, as they banged their gauntleted fists against their metal breastplates, ready to descend upon the settlement below.

The Vertibird swooped slowly down in front of Rivet City, steadily lowering itself onto the charred soil. The enormous beached aircraft carrier sprawled out ahead of them, a mighty juggernaut of decrepit rusting metal docked just off of the mainland.

The squadron poured off of the gunship, Tesla, Hellfire, and regular troops all spilling out in to the Graveyard, their Lieutenant striding boldly behind them.

The cities’ large mechanical bridge hadn’t been extended, but that made little difference to the Enclave.

Two troopers carried a large grappling gun forwards between them, propelling a whirring motorised hook forwards with a pronounced ‘BANG!’, attaching itself to the main entrance of the aircraft carrier. A handful of Rivet City guards moved to stop them, but a round of rattling gunfire sent their bloodied bodies tumbling in to the sea.

Fastening detachable metal handles on to the grappling hooks sturdy wire, the troopers came zipping down on to the Aircraft Carrier, guns locked and loaded as they marched forwards.

“The occupants of this construction are likely all irradiated and mutated.” Lieutenant Myers declared “treat them all with extreme prejudice. They cannot be allowed to live. What you do today, you do for the greater good of America.”

They forced open the ship’s watertight bulkhead door and charged forth into the vessel, ready to shoot on sight.

ust as he was about to respond to the robot he heard a sound, one that he remembered hearing as a child. Vertibirds, the Enclave had come. He saw groups of security escorting people towards the stern of the ship, towards the labs as others rushed out to try and stop the Enclave. He could here there screams outside, he grabbed his helmet and tugged it on. "Alright, both of you head back towards stern, best chance you've got of getting out." He told them picking up his minigun. He began to move objects build cover for himself as two guards rushed over to help the power armored Paladin.

Next they grabbed missile launcher, in decent condition and left it leaned against cover. The left a laser rifle, and plenty of ammo for him as they retreated. They silently wondered if he could actually hold them off, they doubted it after all the Enclave had superior tech... Right? The Paladin set his eyes upon the door way as burst open he spooled up the minigun. The first two entered there armor stopped the first dozen rounds but they hit home and the soldiers crumpled. Dropping his minigun he picked up the launcher, as a squad lined up he fired the missile at the trooper holding the heavy flamer. The explosion sent them all flying however a malfunction in the launcher had jammed it up, he fell back on his rifle.

Picking off the next soldier that enter he yelled. "Come on! Can't you kill Brother of Steel? Has the Enclave gone soft!" He laughed falling back he reloaded his sniper rifle then waited patiently. He really didn't want to die here but distracting the Enclave took priority, they would put him at the top of the hit list now. Plus they would want him alive to find out more about the Brotherhood. He hoped he could just hold it together and keep everyone safe, it was his duty. "Yippee-ki-yay mother fucker." He said to himself leaning out and beginning to fire on Enclave troops. He really hoped this wouldn't be the end for him.

Tasha was just so happy and absorbed into listening and observing the robot that she totally forgot the man, until she was snapped by her ‘trance’ by the sound of rotors of the vertibird. Something from her past flashed for a moment. “VB-02 Vertical Take Off and Landing craft, codename: Vertibird…” The girl quickly said in sort of a trance before shaking her head to snap out of it.

“Getting out?! With that flying thing outside we will be lucky if we manage to reach the library before all hell comes down from above.” Tasha shouted and quickly ran into cover to hide from becoming a target once the Enclave soldiers make it through the doors.

“Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” She shouted once the minigun and the rocket launcher were let loose to meet their targets.” If I knew this would happen, I would have hidden myself in an old vault or something!” She shouted as the sound of bullets flying all around the market place echoed in her ears.

Realizing she wanted to stay alive and preferably having this brotherhood person alive too, she crawled to him and took the rocket launcher. It was jammed, but it was going to be useful once they have to get away from the vertibird. Without the rocket launcher working properly those rockets weren’t of much normal use, but hey if those were as cheap as they looked, maybe she had a plan.

Tasha wasn’t exactly the strongest person, but it there was no choice. Placing one rocket aside, she took what was left and neatly placed them behind the cover the brotherhood man was firing from. Laying on her stomach next to him, she look at him.” If you can throw those close enough to the door and shoot at them they may blow up!” She said, ducking her head back down as some bullets flew by.” If not, let’s get out of here by the back door over there! You can shoot these from there to block those lunatics firing at us!” She said to him and began crawling back from cover to cover, holding the rocket launcher and the rocket she put aside for this reason.

((Ignore.))

Jim stops his whistling as he hears a vertibird over head, "What.. the hell is the enclave going to rivet city for, damn. i wanted to eat well tonight" Jim unslings his sniper rifle and watches the Enclave fly to the carrier. the enclave begin attacking the city and a cloud of smoke erupts from the door they are entering. "Wow, the boys in rivet city are making them work for it. suppose we should go to megaton or something. what do you think Frank?... well ok. rivet city has been good to me. i could help, but they have power armor... and yes i have a big sniper rifle... alright Frank! ill see what i can do. and your Silence still isn't helpful"

Jim finds a tall building near by and climbs up looking for a good vantage point. after a minute of climbing he looks out the window he is well above the Vertibird with a decent overlook of the battle of the Enclave storming the market. he looks around and sees several teams trying to flank the city and find other entrances. "This isn't looking good Frank. i bet..." Jim trains this sight on one of the hell fire suits taking cover on the door just outside the market. Jim laughs"Watch this Frank" he aims for the fuel tank of the hellfire's fuel tank. he fires and the .50 cal bullet slams into the fuel tank detonating its contents into a glorious fireball. the Hellfire soldier is probably killed, but the troops around him are probably just wounded but certainly will be disoriented.

Jim drops away from the window to conceal his position. Jim whispers to Fran"hah, did you see that Frank? haha. poor bastard."

The Rivet City laboratory was the only one of its kind in the entirety of the Capital Graveyard. Bright minds from all around the D.C. area and beyond had flocked here for years, looking to put their scientific expertise to good use in the only place they could. Indeed, the entire city's foundation was centred upon the scientific community's presence—first in studying the local wildlife, and closer to the modern day on fusion power and hydroponics projects. In between, though, a collection of exceptionally brilliant individuals had put their minds together on an ambitious mission to end fresh water scarcity all across what was then called the Capital Wasteland. Project Purity was perhaps the greatest accomplishment of Rivet City's scientific community, even tarnished as it was by the project's takeover and subsequent corruption under the Enclave. It took men and women as wise as those who had started the project in the first place to understand that all breakthroughs of science can be put to a multitude of uses. The Enclave's interest in Project Purity, rather than damning the project, only made it seem all the more impressive for the powers that be of the Commonwealth. A technology so innovative as to attract the brain-dead brutes of a nation long dead was surely something the Institute would greatly enjoy possessing. It was this plea, of the importance of Project Purity and all information relating to it, that Madison Li had ventured north to deliver to the Institute. As it turned out, Madison Li's attempts to attract the Institute's attention had been successful. So successful as to ensure that Rivet City, and the new arrivals defending it, were ready for precisely this situation.

As the militia formed in the Rivet City marketplace, settlers ready to defend with tooth, nail and laser rifle their homes and livelihoods, a small army of an even less professional sort gathered not far away. From the DC Metro Tunnels, near the city's entrance, a horde of dozens of angry, mind-addled feral ghouls came pouring out into the streets. Their screams of rage and anguish broke what was otherwise a chorus of gunfire and explosions, and they immediately set upon the first living things they saw: the Enclave soldiers. Anyone even slightly perceptive nearby would have spotted that, at the same time as this occurred, a bright red mist, smelling of rotting flesh, emerged from a hidden compartment inside the construct from which Rivet City was entered. Those Enclave soldiers near the release of the mist were coated in it, the red covering their power armour like paint, and sending the ferals against them with an even greater ferocity than they targeted their partners-in-arms.

As chaos ensued towards the main entrance, the Enclave soldiers pouring into the Rivet City Marketplace were making gains. Dead settlers, dying guards and spent casings littered the militia's defensive line, and although the Enclave withstood noteworthy casualties as well, the force attacking the marketplace seemed too large and too well equipped for a rag-tag band of Wastelanders to hold them off. It was when the line was nearly broken, and what defenders were left were looking to flee, that a man in a black suit fighting alongside the militia crawled behind cover to prod the neck of a young BoS soldier shooting down Enclave at the other end of the marketplace. As Longshot ducked back behind cover and turned his gaze to the attention-seeker, he saw the man looking straight into his eyes through black shades, face emotionless, and point towards the door leading to the laboratory. Then, without a word, the well dressed stoic ran, assuming Longshot to follow. At first he neglected, determined to stay and fight, but when he saw the defenders of the market place dying and fleeing around him in greater numbers, all as more and more Enclave marched against them, he knew it was his only choice and ran after the man in the black suit. As Longshot fled, a small number followed closely behind them, assuming a man from the BoS would know what he's doing in these types of situations. A blast of plasma nailed the leg of a Rivet City guard, one of the men following Longshot, just before the door to the laboratory was closed, locked all those who had fled from the marketplace inside—spare the dead guard. His body turning into a bright green ooze was the last sight that the fleeing defenders of the market place saw before the doors sealed shut with a louder than normal thud.

The inside of the laboratory was extremely crowded, refugees from other areas of the city and new arrivals decked out in advanced combat armour filling nearly every last bit of open space. A second man in a black suit stood alongside the one that had led the defenders into the lab, the both of the well-dressed pair flanking a tall, smiling man, who had his eyes trained on the Brother of Steel. The door had barely sealed and Longshot's gaze had only just arrived on the smiling man before the sound of an intense jolt of electricity filled the room, and the lights momentarily dimmed. Anyone outside of the laboratory would have been greeted to the sight of a burst of blue energy filling the entirety of Rivet City's interior, but be relatively unaffected by it. Anyone outside of the laboratory and also wearing power armour, however, such as the Enclave Soldiers, whether near the main entrance, the market place, or anywhere else in Rivet City, would be treated to the unique sensation of their flesh and skin melting inside their armour, and their suit's interfaces, joint servomotors and weapons capabilities all going dead as soon as their bodies were struck by the electromagnetism. Energy weapons, too, were immediately turned into useless hunks of metal and plastic, and burned against their wielder's hands. The buzz of electricity lasted exactly nine seconds before it stopped, and the laboratory's doors unsealed and opened. The many soldiers inside the lab then poured out, rushing in large squadrons to each of Rivet City's entrances to stop any more Enclave from entering the city. On their way, any Enclave Soldier they ran into that had wisely not been wearing power armour was shot and left to die along the countless dozens of their armour-clad compatriots. All of Rivet City smelled of melted flesh and burnt hair, and the war between the Enclave and Institute over the gravestone of Washington D.C. had begun in earnest.