When they heard the mention of Vertibirds the merchants sprang into action. The woman at "A Quick Fix", a chem shop, grabbed a bag full of stim packs and med-x, along with an assortment of other chems. The weapons merchant, Flak, opened up a chest and pulled out several hunting rifles and several boxes of ammo and gave them to Shrapnel to hand out. The others moved the makeshift barricades into position. After handing out rifles and ammo, Flak grabbed a set of Talon Company armor and threw a set of normal combat armor to Shrapnel. Just as the others finished moving the barricades and Flak and Shrapnel finished putting on their armor, the Enclave started to enter the marketplace, only to be shot by the BoS member that was waiting for them.

"Enclave? Hell no. I know what'll stop them." Flak said, and grabbed a Fat Man from under a table.

"I would advise against that, sir." said Mr. Smarty, "as a miniature nuclear explosion would likely compromise the structural integrity of this vessel."

"Yeah, you're right, it might." he responded. He put it back and instead grabbed a Chinese assault rifle from the chest, throwing Shrapnel a combat shotgun. "Nice call Mr. Roboto."

"It's Mr. Smarty," he replied, then headed for the barricade at the front of the market with the others. Mr. Smarty even managed to cause some damage to their armor, though the one who seemed to be doing the most damage out of the merchants was the junk dealer, Seagrave, with his railway rifle. When they started to get overwhelmed, however, they started to retreat. Seagrave fired one last time, pinning a man's wrist to the wall, and ran away.

They met Father Clifford, carrying a 10mm pistol and a medical kit, and Diego, carrying a 10mm submachine gun on the way and together they made there way to the lab. Mr. Smarty barely got inside before they closed the door and set off an EMP. While it caused some minor disruptions to his systems, it caused him no permanent damage.

When they left the lab, Seagrave examined the armor of the first dead Enclave soldier they came across. "Damn, I was hoping to salvage some parts from them."

"As was I" said Mr. Smarty. "Perhaps there are a few useful parts left in them, though," he said, though he doubted it.

The woman stared at the man while he pleaded with her. Deep down, she felt a modicum of pity for this guy. After all, his squad had presumably all died, he most likely had a killer headache and now he sat at the mercy of some random wastelander. Although, on the other hand, she didn’t really care much for this guy. She looked at the piece of cloth with intrigue.

Of course, she knew she had no real obligation to the Enclave or any remnant of the U.S. government, for that matter. This was the Wasteland, the Graveyard, the governments of the world had fallen, this wasn’t the old way of living anymore; this wasn’t the old existence, this was existence 2.0. It frustrated her a little how out of touch this man was with the Wasteland. Why didn’t he understand that the Enclave were hated here, they were the bad guys throughout the Wasteland, she thought. This guy should be groveling at her feet, pleading for her not to kill him. Yet she still felt some empathy to help him, some calling to help this poor soldier out. After all, she didn’t hate the Enclave that much. Sure, they had done a few wrong things, but she kept out of their way and they were rather successful in their killings of the Wasteland’s mutants.

The woman wondered what compensation she could get for returning this guy back to his base. Perhaps she could get a substantial amount of caps or some cool weaponry or maybe even a Vertibird. However, her enthusiasm was soon silenced by a surge of skepticism. After all, they could just as easily give her a bullet to the head or enslave her, which would probably be much easier, especially considering she held one of their men at gunpoint. She silently weighed her options as the man stared at her, holding his precious piece of cloth in front of him.

Finally, she relented. There was no real use for this kind of man, especially considering his background. A high and mighty Enclave soldier would never be an obedient slave. Heck, she would probably have an easier time asking one of those cucks from the Brotherhood. Neither would he be a good bodyguard. If anything, giving this man a gun and her trust would be tantamount to offering herself as a hostage. She also really didn’t like the idea of killing or robbing him, both would probably weigh her down and would lead to his death either way. No, she figured the best option would probably be to help him out. After all, she thought sarcastically, it was the least she could do for this brave soldier of the United States.

“All right, get up, get up,” she commanded, her balaclava only slightly altering the sound of her voice, “I’ll take you to your comrades, but I’m keeping your helmet; I’ll need a clear shot of your head if we’re to be wandering around together.”

The woman got out her seat, her rifle still aimed at the man’s head as she waited for him to stand up. She heard the faint sound of a Vertibird as it flew through the sky above, she hoped that this guy wouldn’t get any bright ideas if he happened to hear it.

“By the way, my name's Elysia, what’s yours?” she asked, her politeness partially corrupted by the fact that she still had this man at gunpoint.

As far as Scott could tell, the wastelander was just weighing her options. Fair enough, he supposed; not many people had ever been hand-delivered a Hellfire Trooper to do with as they pleased. He watched her eyes, or at least did his best to focus on them. She looked from his blood chit, to him, to his armor, back to his blood chit, and eventually back to him. Scott swallowed hard, the stale air parching his throat. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. He wasn't about to play the pity card; he doubted any wastelanders had any sympathy for the Enclave, despite all the good they were doing for them in the long run. He honestly wouldn't give a squirt of piss for his own life at that moment.

Even so, the girl sighed and waved Scott to stand up. His sigh of relief came so hard and fast that it turned into a cough in the dusty air. He stood up slowly, his armor creaking and whirring. It didn't seem to sustain too much damage, as he felt limber enough still in it. His helmet probably bit the majority of the impact. As he came to his full standing height, easily towering over the girl, given the height added by his armor, he felt his blood rush to his head. He strained himself to stay conscious, holding out his arms to keep his balance. He shook his head a couple of times to keep things fresh upstairs, and eventually settled on his feet.

The girl mentioned something about keeping his helmet. Scott took a glance at it, and didn't like what he saw. The ceramite was cracked right at the crown of the skull, the optics were shattered, and the rebreather was FUBAR. Not to mention that the girl had probably screwed up the life support systems when she had pried it off of his unconscious head. "Yeah, sure, keep it." Scott muttered. "No good to me."

He searched for the rest of his equipment that may have been scattered around. His sidearm was still at his hip, thankfully, and his heavy incinerator was only a few feet from where he landed. He picked up the massive flamethrower and inspected the fuel tank and tubing for damage. Only superficial harm had come to it, fortunately. He was almost thankful that he had landed on his head; if he had landed on the fuel tank, he would be exactly as toasty as his callsign. His power armor's hydraulics hissed as he hefted the fuel tank onto his back, and felt the familiar weight of the incinerator in his hands. Scott switched on the pilot light and gave the flamethrower an experimental discharge. A puff of flame was expelled from its nozzle without issue, and this satisfied the soldier. If the girl had a problem with him carrying around his weapon, she would have to get over it fast; forcing him to go around unarmed would just endanger them both.

The girl introduced herself, and again Scott flinched at the muzzle of her rifle barely two feet from his face. Polite girl, he mused, must have had a good upbringing. "Uhh. Scott." He said, momentarily forgetting his name as he stared down the barrel of her gun. "Sergeant Darrell Scott."

Continuing to look around, he found nothing else out of place. None of his grenades had discharged, and none of his stimpaks had stabbed into his internal organs. All in all, he was pretty lucky to be... alive. Scott's thoughts flashed back to the vertibird, and his head snapped to look at the flaming wreck in the next building over.

"I have to check on the 'bird." He said, leaving no room for permission or objections as he made his way down the nearest staircase, making his way to street level.

The BoS soldier looked over the crowd. "Gather up the bodies and bring them here. I can start removing the power armor... Don't go looting the weapons, that EMP could make them discharge prone, plasma is unstable as it if it explodes. Well we can get someone to clean up the puddle that you've become, I can safely disarm and dissemble them. Treat the wounded as priority one... Also someone get me the man charge." He yelled out to the crowd as they dispersed out. Bodies were hauled in by security as the BoS soldier worked to remove the armor, the BoS would love to get their hands on this stuff. Enclave armor was more advanced and was better then their T-45d issue sets, however if they still had T-51b like the Brotherhood out west the fight would be going much better.

He was glad that his helmet had a flirtation system, he didn't have to smell the burning flesh. The procedure to remove armor from a burned body was not new to him, the Enclave had attacked with heavy flamers and cooked soldiers from the inside out. The suit he was currently working on's victim was still breathing, he'd give the guy a minute to dye in agony. The only reason he wasn't scream was because his lips had melted shut. So he carefully picked his way through and found Tasha checking on her.

Then sighing he looked around the whole room. "So just who the hell is running the place?" He asked returning to his work removing armor from the disfigured bodies he did his best avoid looking at them. He knew it was terrible but they deserved it all, killing Elder Lyons, Scribe Rothchild, Star Paladin Cross, and even Knight Captain Druga... He would show the Enclave the fear they put in others, he'd show them what it was like to take away a home and everything you had worked so hard for.

Following the strange man who give her the chills, all of them eventually found their way to the labs. Tasha watched in horror as the city guard who was just behind her turned into green goo from a shot that just a few inches away and would have hit her instead. Her yes couldn’t stop staring at his remains as the doors of the lab closed and the sound of electricity filled the room. She felt as if static electricity run though her body, making her lose focus for a moment and then began hearing the shouts of the enclave soldiers outside. They were screaming in pain and she heard one of them shout that he was burning inside.

AS the doors of the lab opened and everyone began leaving, the young woman walked outside with shaky steps, putting her hand in front of her mouth and nose to try to block the smell. The stench of burnt flesh was sickening. Once the brotherhood person began taking off their armors, and she was able to see their bodies, Tasha really began looking sick. She took a few steps only to find herself feeling weak. She wasn’t used to so much death around her and even less used to such carnage. She did notice the person wearing the brotherhood power armor looking at her, but since she was feeling sick at the moment, she couldn’t pay much attention to him. She did kick something with her leg as she was walking around, trying to escape from the smell of burned flesh. She kicked what probably was the side arm of one of the enclave soldiers. Somehow managing to crouch to take it and gather the scattered ammo from his pistol, she took it all and walked to the brotherhood person.” Excuse me do you think it will be a problem if I keep this…?” Tasha asked slowly, showing the man the .44 magnum revolver. She already hid away the bullets at least if they took the gun, she will sell them.

Trying to decide how to ask about her second question, Tasha looked at the ground.” If I want to join the brotherhood of steel, what should I do…?” She asked with uncertain voice as she was almost sure she will get yelled at for asking. She already got yelled a few times when she tried to find a job here at Rivet city, but no one wanted to hire her.

All John had heard at first was the audible whirring of the vertibird that flew over the streets, drowning out the radio. He grumbled a bit. After all, they'd interrupted his favourite song. He climbed up to the rooftop of the seemingly endless building, spotting the 'bird as it flew towards the abandoned building a certain Super Mutant was inhabiting. A sly grin played across his face as he noticed the mutant was holding a rocket launcher. However, the Enclave soldiers seemed to have not noticed that fact, as one of them fired towards the Super Mutant before it fired a rocket, sending them hurtling through the air. It was their own fault, really - the stupid pilot turned the vertibird so that the rocket hit the engine. Dumb fucks, he thought.

Regardless, he jumped along some rooftops, thinking he'd avoid the massive thing hurtling towards him, when he lost his balance. He fell into a building, and scuttled into a corner just as the vertibird crashed mere inches away. He was about to go investigate when he heard someone else enter the room, and ran into the shadows for cover. His long time being a thief and raider helped him to stay undetected and stealthy as he sat watching the intruder. He noticed it was a woman of Aisan ethnicity that stood at around 5'7". She sat down near the unconscious soldier, before she pulled off his helmet and aimed a gun at his head. Great, just what I need. Company.

---

John had sat painstakingly through their conversation, listening and watching intently. The now conscious Enclave soldier had pulled out some cloth, talking about a big reward if he was taken back to the Enclave. John had flashed a non-visible grin, but decided to stay back and eavesdrop some more. The woman stood up and beckoned to the soldier to get up, too. She stated her name was Elysia, but the soldier seemed more intent on readying his weapons than exchanging names. Shit. I waited too long. Now he's got his weapons... if he spots me, or if I don't kill him instantly, I'm plasma chow. The man eventually struggled out a faint, uncertain 'Scott', before he drifted from reality and snapped back to it. He'd definitely taken a hit to the head.
*"I have to check on the 'bird,"* he said, before he headed down the staircase.

John stealthily crept among the walls and to the staircase, and he set off a couple of paces behind the Enclave soldier as he tailed him silently. I gotta disarm him, then find a way to render him unconscious. Then, I have to find the way to the Enclave. I'm gonna be rolling in caps. A smirk teased his lips as he continued to follow Scott.

A thick silence permeated across the wasteland, in but a few short years, the scars which etched itself into the very foundations of the earth were painted with new, more brutal scars, scars which would continue to etch themself into the canvis of the capital wasteland, until it had all but blotched out what it was originally and whilst war may never change, while the world, corrupted and swallowed in its own greedy fight over land, fight over pointless squabbles and fight merely for profit, there was one soul in the wasteland that did not care for such things, a soul that only wished to survive and live long and prosper, a four legged soul, its eyes gleaming as it stared to the vast ruinous wasteland, eager to explore, eager to find food and eager to live on. That souls name, was Khalid.

The soft, silent pads of the canine pitter-pattered across the stone and dirt of the wasteland's concrete jungle, his ears flickering, allowing his canine senses to help him track any sounds close by, along with his powerful nose and watchful gaze, he wouldn't be ambushed any time soon, not before he noticed his foes himself coming at him a mile off. The large dog curiously sniffed along the dirt surface, a mixture of different scents fumbled his senses for a mere moment. Blood, ash, gunpowder, sickness, the average smells of the wasteland. Khalid did his best to search around the tall, ominous buildings before heading into one himself, its doors were busted completely open, ripped off their hinges with some form of gunfire, not that khalid knew.

He let his senses go to work once more, carefully and slowly advancing through the urban office building, his decision to search here was a choice well made, as the scent of sugar tickled his nostrils, causing the dog to lick its chops eagerly before bolting off in an excited sprint, his nose grinding along the dirty office floor, following the scent of what he could only describe as food. When he locked onto a scent, it would never leave his sight, his treasure hunt a success as the dog ground to an immediate halt behind a large cabinet, however the handles were too big for him to reach, instinctively making khalid pine, his head tilting in confusion, perplexed on how he was going to overcome such a vigorous challenge. At first, Khalid attempted to charge as fast as he could into it, but all that did was give the dog a slight twitch of pain as its body clunked into the metal cabinet's door. It would seem he would have to try plan B.

Khalid extended his jaw open, wide enough to latch onto the side of the wooden door. He growled and janked, pulling his hardest. Had he been a weaker dog, and if the lock on the door had been stronger, he probably wouldn't have been able to do it, but with enough jaw force thanks to his lockjaw, khalid had ripped the door straight off the hinges, chomping angrily on the door he had yanked off with extreme prejudice, as if trying to scold the door for doing its job. His lockjaw loosened eventually, allowing Khalid to drop it and get into the contents of the box which laid within, but it wasn't merely one box, two boxes were dragged out from within the cabinet, causing their mouldy, sugar tasty bomb shaped forms to sprinkle across the floor. Sugar bombs!

As if Khalid could hold himself back, it was his treat, his reward for searching so hard, his reward for being smart enough to yank that bad door down from keeping him from acquiring such a tasty, sugary meal. Khalid scoffed, slurped and chomped on each individual sugary treat, consuming every last little sprinkle in each of the boxes. Two full boxes of sugarbombs, it was heaven in disguise. He was contemplating merely to simply rest now, and let the sugarbombs rest in his stomach, but his potential rest was disturbed by the sound of a violent explosion of the Vertibird, which made Khalid stand up on all fours defensively, growling at the outside, as one of the buildings close by was now coated in the flames, the wreckage of a vertibird clearly visible. Khalid knew he shouldn't stay, fearing his life and bolted off out of the door of the office, as fast as his canine legs could carry him, he sprinted in the direction of Rivet City.



The dogs legs had carried him straight to the outside of rivet city, however Khalid had halted just before reaching it, as he noticed the vertibird flying overheard, the flying machine roared and positioned itself outside, before the huge tanker of a ship that was the city. In but a few moments, gunfire filled the air, causing Khalid once more to rush away into a nearby building to hide away from the enclave soldiers who were storming River City, hurrying into the building where Jim@sophrus currently was positioned though upon hearing the sound of his rifle, Khalid crouched down immediately and slowly approached, but kept himself hidden under a table, watching jim move carefully. He didn't know of this man was friend or foe, simply waiting to see what he would do, hidden in the shadows.

All around Lieutenant Elijah Myers, his soldiers were frying. A jolt of bright blue electricity, unlike anything he had ever seen, tore through the decrepit husk of the Aircraft Carrier, bouncing off of walls and zapping through thin air, grabbing at the power-armor clad soldiers like long writhing tentacles, sending their bodies into jagged spasms; their limbs flying wildly about the place, and thrashing out around them.

Garbed in his plain black and grey militaristic uniform, Elijah was spared from the chaotic surge of energy, but the troops he commanded were not so fortunate.

Burned out metal husks dropped lifelessly to the floor, their heavy armour clanging on the walkway, crashing to the ground with a loud ‘THUD!’.

Myers stumbled forwards, his heart pounding in his chest, as the sound of not-so-distant gunfire rattled through the steely carcass of Rivet City, echoing off the tinny metal walls.

Two Rivet City security guards, dressed in their stocky black uniforms, came charging around the corner, their finer features obscured by dim blue visors, and automatic rifles clutched in their bare hands.

“Time to say goodnight, you Enclave son of a bitch.” Snarled one of the soldiers triumphantly, raising his weapon.

Before they could gun him down, Myers drew his magnum from its holster, rapidly firing a round clean through one of the soldier’s necks; a brilliant burst of dark red erupting forth from his throat as he collapsed to the floor, frantically grasping at his torn jugular.

Myer’s swerved to fire again, but he was too slow, and the second soldier sent a hailstorm of bullets tearing through the lieutenant’s side.

Pain, searing and hot, raked through Myer’s side, as he stumbled to the floor, his uniform stained with the hot blood that was seeping out of him. He gritted his teeth in agony as he struck the metal ground beneath him, his vision blurring as dark mist crept in all around him. His breathing was raspy and jagged, each drawn out breath sending a new jolt of fresh torment coursing through his side, and he could feel his whole body shaking as he began to slip away.

The soldier strode up triumphantly, standing over him with a smug grin on his face as he aimed the barrel of his gun down at the Lieutenant.

“I’m gonna enjoy putting a bullet in every last one of you martial-law-imposing bastards.”

The soldier’s finger wrapped around the trigger.

Myer’s summoned his last ounce of strength, and pulled his hunting knife free from its slot in his black combat boot, using all his force to drive the finely honed steel straight through the soldier’s beefy calf muscle. Wet blood splattered the ground, and the soldier let out a sudden shrike of agony, slipping backwards and crashing to the floor. He fired his weapon, but the bullets pounded harmlessly against the celling, their deafening boom wringing out through the thin corridor as the soldiers thrashed about on the ground.

The Lieutenant hurled himself across the floor, planting the cold blade of his knife straight into his wailing attacker’s chest, pulling it out with bestial ferocity, before stabbing it in him again and again and again, a sickly wet squelching sound oozing into the air as blood pooled out around the soldier.

Victorious, Myers rolled onto his back, lying down between the corpses of the fallen, as he gazed up at the celling. His eyes lolled back into his head, and he could feel the darkness crawling over him, ready to whisk him away.

“Semper Fidelis…” Lieutenant Elijah Myers croaked in a drained voice, and then the world went black for the last time.

Elysia sighed once more as this Scott fellow sprinted off, without any regard for what she wanted to do. She felt a tinge of sadness at his lack of compassion but dismissed it as some sort of zealous determination to his faction, one that caused him to run away from her at that very moment. Still, she wished to have talked to him. She hadn’t had any real human interaction for almost a week, and it upset her that her first real chance for human communication in days had left right after they exchanged names.

She wanted to stop for a smoke, yet she knew she had no time to dilly-dally. Her “prisoner” was running further away from her by the second. A feeling of solemn frustration enveloped her as she began to run after him. How could this guy be so naive, she thought to herself, isn’t it obvious that I have to get him out of this place. She then, strangely, found herself more and more worried about the well-being of this stranger. He won’t last long, not in the condition he’s in now, she mused as she began to descend the crumbling staircase of the office building, her weapon at the ready and the contents of her backpack noisily clanging with each step she made.

She passed by the floors she had perused earlier. She was disheartened by the fact that she hadn’t found anything of value but also noted that this place had probably been picked clean by two hundred years of scavengers. It gave her a solemn sense of scale and furthered her insecurity. However, she turned her focus back on following her new companion, trying not to allow such philosophical matters to wander into her conscious.

She walked down the stairs carefully, keeping near the wall in anticipation of any dirty tricks from the soldier. It was clear that she didn’t trust him that much, even if he hadn’t tried to fight her. Although, his passivity might have been caused by the fact that I was holding him at gunpoint, she thought.

As she moved down the stairwell, she noticed something out of place. She was able to hear the footsteps of Scott, who was just a bit further down, but his movements seemed much too loud. She understood that a man in power armor must be a sort of lumbering giant, but this sounded like more than just one man. A jolt of fear ran down her spine, realizing the ramifications of this discovery.

“HEY, SCOTT!” Elysia shouted, “I DON’T THINK WE’RE ALONE HERE!” Her voice was much louder than she had expected, but it would serve to efficiently warn her new friend of any danger. Unfortunately, it also had the added consequence of alerting whatever company had been present. Elysia quickened her pace to try and catch up with Scott, while also staying alert in case of an unexpected encounter. Adrenalin raced through her as she tried to anticipate what could happen, for all she knew this encounter could be fatal or otherwise deleterious to her health. This day turned from good to terrible in a fraction of a second.

Jim watches as the battle unfolds below him the Enclave making their way into the city with ease, until an explosion of some kind disables the Enclave's efforts. Electro-magnetic Jim assumes, most of them collapse under the weight of their power armor. all of their energy weapons fail and are helpless under the fire of the Rivet City guards. Some low level Officer exits the Vertibird as though he is trying to rally his troops. "Oh, no you dont." says Jim with his rough ghoulish voice. He follows the officer trying to line up the shot, he nearly gets the chance until the officer realizes what was going on and tries to run to the vertibird and escape. "you bastard" curses Jim and he gets the shot as the officer pauses to climb into the vehicle. he fires and the .50 cal bullet blasts the officer's chest open. It spaltters blood and bone all over the interior of the vertibird. A rivet city guard who was moving in to assault the vehicle looks in the general direction of Jim's position and waves in thanks for the help.

Jim smiles under his mask but withdraws his weapon and sinks below the frame of the window. "Well, that was a good dust up don't you think frank?" says Jim taking Frank down from the window. "Rather anti-climatic with the EMP and all, but fun anyways. probably got quite a few of the enclave boys." Jim laughs, although the baseball appears indifferent to the situation.

He peels the gas mask off his face revealing his rotten face, he sighs tired from the travel and climb up to the third story. the battle was simple enough, putting a few bullets into the Enclave is always a pleasure. he pulls a pack of cigarettes from a fold in the sleeve of his coat and put one in his mouth chuckling to himself. he is about to light the cigarette with a lighter and sees a mass, a dog@Happy Go Lucky under a table a dozen feet away. he smirks at the dog with the cigarette in his mouth still unlit. "Well, you caught us" he says lifting his hands confident that his combat armor would protect him if the dog decided to attack him. "Your not with the enclave are you?"

The moment the man removed his helmet, to reveal the face of a ghoul, Khalid on instinct growled defensively, on all fours it tried to act intimidating by getting on all fours and raising its back up, growling to try and scare the ghoul away, though he didn't want to attack the ghoul, he wouldn't have a choice if the ghoul tried to attack him, however, what happened next, causing Khalid to lower his guard. Jim had decided to lift his hands, almost as if surrendering.

"Well, you caught us, you're not with the enclave are you?"@sophrus

Khalid had tilted his head in an adorable, and confused manner when the ghoul decided to act cool and calmly. Most people Khalid came across were mindless psychopaths radiating with insanity. Khalid still got a whiff that Jim was flying over the cuckoo' nest, but for the most part, the ghoul didn't seem like he was going to harm him. Khalid felt a rush of relief at the fact he may have made a new friend and slowly approached, before sitting in front of Jim slowly, taking his time so he wouldn't take no sudden moves, and just so he could keep an eye on everything the ghoul was doing, the dog may have been a knucklehead, but his instincts were going haywire.

Khalid then decided to try the technique he always used on people who weren't raiders or fiends, and sat in front of the ghoul, gazing up to him with big, puppy dog eyes, glistening from the sun as the dog let out a pine, as if desiring something from the ghoul, staring back and forth from jim to frank, from frank to jim, his tail wagging gently, as if desiring to play, continuing to whimper in desire for the baseball.

the dog carefully approached Jim obviously trying not to startle him. Jim smiled at the dog as it sat down in front of him and began trying to be adorable. Jim wasn't moved however, as adorable as the dog was he had been alive far far too long for such tactics to fool him. a fragment of memory leaped to the front of his mind, a pre-war memory. he remembered the family dog, Kal, and how he was outside when the bombs hit. despite himself a tear dropped from his eye to his rotten skin.

"Well, hello puppy." he said, slightly choked up.

then he noticed how the dog was looking at him, and Frank. when he realized what the dog wanted he clutches Frank close to his chest like it was an infant being threatened by a deathclaw. Jim looks wounded, as though some one said they had killed his dog, but then an anger bubbles up into Jim. "No, oh no. you. you don't touch frank" says Jim, calmly but firmly. he feels a pang of guilt as he sees, or what he perceives, as sorrow in the dogs face. "Well. ok, you cant have frank.. but.." he reaches back slowly and starts to dig around in his pack making sure not to startle the dog. he finds a slab of Mole Rat meat, "I was saving this for me and frank but, i suppose you can have it." he unwraps the slab and puts it down carefully "Yeah, there you go. Kal, can i call you Kal?"

“HEY, SCOTT! I DON’T THINK WE’RE ALONE HERE!” Elysia shouted as she quickened her pace. Crap. John was caught. He pulled out his Silenced 10mm Pistol, loading it silently and aiming it carefully for the Enclave soldier's fuel tank, before coming out of the shadows. "Now," He grumbled, his gas mask making his voice considerably deep, "let's make this nice and easy. I don't wanna hurt anybody today, I'm just looking to get my honest share of caps out here." The American in his British accent occasionally bled through, but he kept it under control with a quick clearing of his throat. "As you can see, I've got my gun aimed at your friend's fuel tank. You step one place out of line, I fire. And you, Scott," He smirked at the fact he knew their names, "don't go trying to use that old flamethrower of yours."

He took a few steps towards them, his pistol constantly aimed at the fuel tank. "Right, change of plan. Scott, you carefully put your weapons down, and I won't put a bullet in you and your escort's skulls. Same for you, Elysia. Weapons down and this will be nice and easy. After all, I don't think any of us want to get hurt."

(Sorry that it's so short, I'm just balancing things right now)

It had taken him a few hours of traveling the streets and tunnels of DC, but Terry finally could see the sprawling aircraft carrier known as Rivet City. As he walked closer, though, he noticed something was off. Like the crashed Vertibird, and the pitmarks and grappling cables along the hull.

"What in the hell happened..." Terry whispered to himself.

Time to take precautions. Terry pulled out his plasma rifle and activated his suit's cloak. He carefully made his way up to the entrance, only to find that all the guards on the other side were dead, and that the bridge was drawn in. He couldn't get across. Sighing, Terry made his way into the irradiated water. He had often done this late at night, when the guards wouldn't open the drawbridge. Clambering onto the part of the boat that had been sheared away, he looked for the way up.

---

Five minutes later, he was inside. The first thing he noticed was the smell. His suit wasn't hard-sealed, and the air filtration had long since stopped working. He wondered just what that smell was up until he found the first Enclave bodies. Only mildly surprised, he leaned down and examined the suit and corpse.

Electronics are fried, the weapons are inoperative, he lifted the face plate and grimaced. Bodies are practically melted. Looks worse than me now, hehe. Slowly, it was coming together. Some kind of EMP fried them, probably took out the Vertibird as well. It must have been one hell of a burst.

Still, he didn't let his guard up until he reached the marketplace. There he saw a few piles of plasmic goo and more bodies of fallen Enclave soldiers. Seems Terry had missed all the fun. He put his rifle back onto the clamp on his back and deactivated his cloak, then walked down from the catwalk he was on. He walked past the people cleaning up, looking for someone who wasn't quite busy. He found that in what appeared to be a Brotherhood of Steel Paladin, who from Terry could tell was overseeing everything. Beside him was a young woman, though she seemed almost as lost as he was.

"What the hell happened here? Did the Enclave make an attack?" Terry asked the Paladin.

Before Scott had made it outside, the girl, Elysia, called down a warning to him. The veteran soldier cursed; the loudness of his armor and limits to his range of movement that it imposed made him relatively easy to sneak up on. This was his own fault, really. Even so, he didn't have to spend any extra effort searching for whoever was tailing him, as he dropped his cover immediately and began issuing threats.

Scott learned a few things about this person immediately. Foremost, this was a cocky bastard, who figured that he would be able to rob two heavily-armed combatants with (from what Scott could see from the corner of his eye) a pea shooter. Secondly, he was relying heavily on the intimidation factor, given his modulated voice and trying to creep them out by using their names. Scott was unimpressed. Lastly, this guy was a moron; shooting Scott's fuel tank would just result in the dumbass being sprayed with pressurized flamer fuel, thus making him all the easier to light up. Military-grade flamethrowers were designed to be shot at, and it would take a shot from a plasma weapon to reliably ignite a fuel tank. Furthermore, this idiot was standing immediately behind Scott, well within the blast radius should his tank ignite. They clearly weren't dealing with a mental giant here, but Scott didn't really expect much from wastelanders.

That said, though, Scott didn't want to reach for his sidearm in case his tank was indeed ruptured. He also didn't want to use his incinerator, which carried the same risk of igniting the leak. That really only left one option. Rather than drop his weapons, Scott spun around with surprising speed, swinging the his Heavy Incinerator at the would-be stickup man. The considerable, solid weight of the incinerator, combined with Scott's power-armor enhanced strength, would be sufficient to send the average person flying through the weakened walls on either side of them.

The impact of the incinerator hit John with a shock, slightly softened by his combat vest. He barely managed to grab something as he went through the walls and out of the building, holding onto a single beam on the building. He coughed loudly, the wind having been blown right out of him, and tried to regain his bearings. No matter how still he tried to make himself, however, his vision went blurry through the mask, and his body went limp, his gun rattling on the ground as it dropped down, shortly followed by his nearly unconscious body.
"Fucking... Enclave..." He muttered weakly, before he passed out.

James stared out of the vertibird, studying the barren wasteland before him. It was a far cry from what he was used to in the Mojave. The endless desert was instead replaced with dense vegetation, steep cliffs and the occasional abandoned building. Reynolds' mind wandered to the task that he now faced. He had heard stories of the Enclave from his grandfather, who had fought them in the NCR-BoS Enclave war. They were rugged, well trained soldiers according to him, more than a match for the average NCR trooper and much better equipped too. Then there was the wasteland itself. There was no stable government here like there was back in the Mojave. It seemed like it was every man for themselves out here. He would have to take a cautious approach to his mission, who knew who was trustworthy? He checked his weapons again, searching for anything that would hinder its effectiveness. Nothing new since the last time he checked. James looked at the intelligence report for the third time, analysing every piece of information noted down again. The NCR higher ups estimated Enclave numbers to be low, but well armed. Intel suggested that they were currently occupied in a war with the Brotherhood of Steel for control of Washington. Whether this would help or hinder his objectives was at the moment uncertain. Flipping the page to the BoS report, his face twisted into a frown. The reports in front of him were conflicting. Some sources stated the BoS to have a strong presence in the wasteland, yet some said different, implying the BoS had gone underground and abandoned its hold of the wasteland. Reynolds stared at the file with confusion. Out-dated intelligence and unreliable sources would only serve to hinder his mission, and no doubt put him in danger. He skimmed over the next few pages, examining the factions the NCR deemed only a minor threat to him, raiders and the like. These he was used to, having had more than enough encounters with chem’d up fiends back west. Should he come across any of these groups, a bullet to the head is all they’d be getting from him. He was suddenly interrupted by a voice from up front.

“Sir, we’ll be reaching the outskirts of D.C shortly. We can’t risk getting any closer than this, or we risk the chance of being detected.” The NCR pilot said to him.

The officer in the corner handed him a folded piece of paper.

“On here is the frequency which you will use to report in to us, and details of your commanding officer. Just know this Ranger, the bear means nothing out here. If you are captured, there will be no attempt by us to rescue you. If we don’t receive a report from you within a week of our last contact, then we’ll assume you are KIA and will notify your family in due course. The nature of your assignment will not be revealed to them however. Your training has more than adequately prepared you for this. We’re confident that you will succeed.” The NCR captain saluted Reynolds as the vertibird descended onto the wasteland below. Reynolds returned the salute before jumping down from the aircraft.

He spared one final glance at the NCR flag on the side before the vertibird flew away into the distance. Turning around, Reynolds studied his surroundings. He’d been dropped 10 miles outside of Washington D.C. There wasn’t much for him to see here, just a single road leading to the ruins of D.C. Reynolds slipped the paper into his pocket and set off down the road towards D.C.

Noticing the tear dropping from the rotten ghouls cheek, Khalid was unable to comprehend why, and tilted his head once more, confused at what the human was feeling and why he was experience some form of negative emotion. When the ghoul said hello, and choked up when he spoke, Khalid pined sadly and nuzzled the ghouls rotten bony hand slowly, in the vain hope of trying to make him feel better, whimpering up at the ghoul, not finding it amusing nor good that the ghoul was showing signs of being unhappy, Khalid didn't like that, and attempted to comfort him as best as the dog could.

It was then, Jim the ghoul had snatched the baseball away and cradled it in his arms protectively. At first, Khalid's maw opened up into a pant, giving the look as if he were smiling, his tail wiggle waggling excitedly, in absolute joy in the hopes he would be given the ball to play with. However the longer Jim held the ball, the more it came apparent to Khalid that he wouldn't be given the ball, causing the big dog to whimper in a sad affectionate manner, giving the ghoul man the cute puppy look once more.

Of course, nobody can resist the face of a dog wanting something, as Khalid succeeded in his plan, eventually the ghoul had put the baseball away and replaced the ball with a slab of delicious mole rat meat. Not knowing whether Khalid should eat it or not, the dog looked to the ghoul with confirmation. Jim spoke something, which Khalid perceived as the go ahead to chomp down on the delicious meat he was given and barked in response to Jim. Of course to Jim, he would perceive it that the dog is okay with being called Kal, but it seems the two were lost in translation. Khalid playfully pounced upon the meat and chomped delightfully on each slice he could rip off with his powerful jaws. Chewing and growling merrily, happy as his tail wagged at the speed of a jet.

The chapel sat amidst a plateau of twisted trees and cracked soil. A small clump of headstones were dotted about outside it, surrounded by the rickety remains of a white picket fence. The chapel itself was in poor condition, with gaping hole smashed straight through its crumbling shingle roof, and the windows all broken and shattered.

Its remarkable the fucking things still standing Hestia thought to herself as she huffed and heaved her way up the pathway to the chapel, which had been partially enveloped by the irradiated ground around it. Her Brahmin trundled along behind her, considerably less out-of-breath and sweaty than its owner.

A dark-skinned corpse, clad in motley green armour, lay face down in the mud, and Hestia carefully stepped over it as she made her way inside the building, tying her Brahmin to a great grey treat which stood sentinel next to the chapel.

”This is Three Daaaaaaaawg, and you’re listening to Galaxy News Radio!” a sudden burst of sound made Hestia jump out of her skin. She spun straight around, only to be greeted by a quaint little radio which was propped up on an old stool.

She laughed awkwardly to herself, breathing a slight sigh of relief, before plopping down against a wall as she puffed and panted in exhaustion.

“How’re you handlin’ things out there in our very own Capital Graveyard, boys and girls? Life sure is fucking swell!” the radio bleeped.

Hestia regained enough strength to stuff her face with snack cakes, liking icing and pastry up off of her plump lips.

“Did you kids see the lightshow down at Rivet City?! A little birdy told me some suits and ties came sneaking into everybody’s favourite Aircraft Carrier a while back, and that all that crazy blue electricity was some sort of weapon those shady creeps were using against the Enclave. I don’t know what’s going on with these guys who’ve just rolled up in Post-Apocalyptia, but if they’re stickin’ it to our authoritarian lords and masters then they get the thumbs up from old Three Dog!”

After her bottomless pit of a stomach was reasonably satisfied, Hestia went wadding out to her Brahmin, collecting a sleeping mat and covers, as well as a box of supplies to get her through the night, before setting up her own little shelter inside the chapel. All the while, the man on the radio kept nattering on.

“So what else has been going on in the DC Hellhole? We’ve had a sudden influx of life over at Paradise Falls, and that son-of-a-bitch Eulogy Jones seems to be expanding further and further out into the wastes. Hasn’t he caused us all enough pain and suffering?! Between the Enclave, raiders, slavers, and what’s left of the Super Mutants, roads out in the wilderness just aren’t safe, so make sure you only go trekking through the Graveyard if it’s absolutely essential. These are dark times children, so have some advice, courtesy of your all powerful lord and master; find a settlement, set up shop, and stay there. The best bet you busy little bees have is to tie yourself to a group of like-minded wanderers, and hope things turn out better than they are right now.

It’s a grim world out there, boys and girls, and when have I ever been one to hide the truth from my loyal disciples?

Until next time, this has been Three Dog, and you’re listening to Galaxy News Radio; your guiding light in the radiation!”

Elysia’s heart stopped as abruptly as she did when the thug made his demands. However, in a matter of seconds, anger overcame her fear. How could this goon act like he owned me, she thought, and it’s not like I care about this Enclave guy anyhow. She tried to devise a plan on how she could take control of this situation, but she couldn’t see what sort of gun, or guns, this robber had, and where he was aiming. Things looked rather grim.

Elysia’s grip tightened on her assault rifle. She gave it a brief glance, quickly examining the weapon. It was in near perfect condition. She had cleaned it just a few days ago and was fortunate enough to not have used it since. Damn, I don’t wanna use this here, but I need to act now she thought as she steadied her breath. This exchange could be her last, after all.

With a new-found resolution, she had decided that she would run in and try to kill this thug as soon as possible. Her heart raced as she felt another surge of adrenalin. She thought of her past, of the future she could lose in the blink of an eye. This is no time to show fear, she thought as she envisioned her parents, but she quickly thrust that image away, not wanting to break down crying. She took a deep breath and prepared to run down the stairs. Elysia felt sweat run down her face as she took her first step. Slow, at first, but as soon as she made contact with the ground, she burst into a sprint down the stairs.



Elysia stopped dead in her tracks as she witnessed the two men’s bout. The Enclave soldier slammed the robber with enough force to send him flying through the side wall. She felt herself give a sigh of relief, although her body still seemed on edge. She walked slowly down the steps to examine the thug, aiming her weapon at him in the process. She didn’t have much to worry about, seeing as how the guy seemed to be unconscious, judging by his silence after muttering some curse and the stillness of his body, but she noted that some wastelanders had enough acting prowess to join a theatre troupe.

“Hey, Scott,” she managed to say, “wait up for me next time, ‘kay?” She gave a nervous chuckle as she tried to pry the bandit out of the wall, her assault rifle now hanging by a makeshift strap that ran around her neck and under her armpit. This guy was heavy, and it took most of her strength to try and get this guy out, as she eventually had to drag him out by his arms.

She sprawled the looter out upon a the stairs, having little regard for his well being. She didn’t bother trying to take off his gas mask, opting to sift through his backpack instead.

“No honor among thieves, my friend,” she whispered to the unconscious body as she opened his backpack. She didn’t really want to steal much from him. In a way, she felt some pity for the guy. Still, she didn’t hesitate taking some caps, food, drink, and ammunition, although only so much so that he hopefully wouldn’t notice.

Elysia picked herself up and closed her backpack, which had been a bit lighter just a few moments ago. She grasped her rifle once again, thankful that she didn’t have to use it. She dusted herself off, her masked face looking down upon the bandit. What was his story?