The snowy blizzard blew violently through the dead forest. The wooling as it brushed past the tree sounded like the sprits of the past tormented by atomic fire. But past these horrific sounds was something far worse. The fine crunching sound of heavily armoured boots wading through the snow.

Forty-Seven troops, all wearing identical uniforms with an E surrounded by starts stitched in, adapted for winter operations and able to live up to the standards of the Canadian Wastes. Heavy respirator breathing filled the air as the troops continued marching on. Their weapons ready to fire upon anything that moved. Leading them – Colonel Davis, he however was not wearing the matching uniform, instead he wore Advance Power Armour of unknown origin.

“Move it! We’re almost at the site!” He beckoned as he turned to face his troops who were clearly exhausted from miles of hiking without rest. An officer ran up Davis, holding some form of PDA in his hand.
“Sir, at this rate we may miss this passing off the satellite.” He said, his hands shaking from the sheer weather. Davis gave a low sigh.
“We best keep moving then!”

I really need to pee.

The most annoying part about winter scouting jobs was that it was always a pain to relieve yourself. Wearing six layers certainly kept out the cold and snow, but when you needed to take a leak, peeling it all back was just a hassle. Of course, you could play the waiting game and hold it, but after fifteen hours of patrol, you had to deal with it eventually. Either you took the time to unlayer, or you let it go in your drawers.

And Garrett Hudson wasn't one to deal with an enemy after having just recently pissed his pants.

Sighing, he leaned his rifle on the wall beside him, took the time to unzip, and took care of business, careful to keep hidden in a small foxhole while doing so, still keeping a relative eye on his surroundings. Not that there had been anything nearby recently, of course, but you never knew out here in the wastes.

Hudson was tall, a little over six foot, with the strong build of someone who spent his days dealing with the dangers of the wastes face-to-face. He was lean, with large arms and broad shoulders, but with a litheness to his movements that betrayed a past of discipline and training.

Well, aside from his current activity, of course.

He looked over the weapon, a little over half as tall as he was, with a long barrel and a black finish, tipped with the angled edges a flash suppresor right on the muzzle. The weapon had gotten him through plenty of scrapes, especially on these little freelance scouting missions. The long gun had definitely seen her share of action over the years.

This little mission had seemed simple enough. The Empire had been hiring freelancers to patrol the outer edges of BC, keeping an eye on coming threats. Ever since that damnable beam in the sky had fired off, wiping out Tsing Sha, things had been pretty tense out here. Whispers said that some of the big boys from down south were making their way up to investigate, which spun up Hudson's insides with a mix of dread and excitement.

He and the NCR had tangled plenty of times over the years, and he had the scars to prove it. He'd even taken on one of the Brotherhood Paladins a while back, and though the damnable armor had proven too hardy, he'd escaped with only a few scars, which he considered a win. So either of the groups making their way up here seemed like par for the course.

Let's see 'em shiver up here with us, then.

Hudson had been hired, along with several other freelance scouts, to patrol in the southern outlands, and relay anything unusual back to IC. So far, the days had been pretty dull, with the occasional mole rat popping its head out to investigate, which had made his rations go a little further, meat on the cooking fire.

He'd been given a transmitter, but it was back at his camp - No need to carry that damn box around with him on patrol. It was almost forty pounds, and thankfully had a backpack to it, but he didn't want to have that kind of weight slowing him down.

The air was cold, and the ice was turning to steam. He gazed around pointedly, his eyes noticing movement on the horizon.

"Shit!" He softly cursed himself. Things always seemed to happen just when he wasn't quite ready for it. "Shit, shit, shit!"

He quickly hurried things along, unreasonably cursing himself for having dared to drink water in the first place, especially mid-patrol. He willed himself to hurry, despite his bladder refusing to cooperate.

Finally, he finished up and buttoned up, relayering quickly and snatching up his rifle. He pressed against the wall, and peered through the scope, trying to get a bead. He was too low, and only got a few glimpses.

The soldiers were wearing winter suits and breathing masks, and moved with military precision, but Hudson didn't recognize the uniform. They had a symbol stitched on their arms, of the letter "E" surrounded by stars. If he didn't know any better, it looked like a variation on the Imperial symbol, with the letter in the middle instead.

Some new group of specialists?

No, that didn't make any sense. Imperial specialists used characters for their variant symbols, not English letters. Besides, he probably would have been told if they had a group operating out in the area. He stepped back, and for a split second, realized that he'd leaned against the wall exactly where he'd just finished up his little break.

Rolling his eyes and cursing again, he stealthily made his way out of the foxhole, keeping low as he climbed up a nearby building, gaining a better vantage point. He continued to crouch forward, and could finally see the group clearly through his rifle scope.

About fifty or so.

They were organized, and quiet, moving along with precision, though those masks kept their identities shrouded. Still, they seemed to be slowly making their way northward, and that was worth reporting, especially considering the weapons in their arms and the surely loaded packs on their backs.

Hudson climbed backwards, and made his way slowly out of the building. Sure he was out of eyesight, he hustled back towards his camp. He'd secluded himself into an old bunker, hidden under the snow and relatively unnoticed. The only way in was by twenty feet of tunnel, so he'd considered the location secure for his gear. He rushed into the impromptu snowcave, leaned his rifle against the table, and and immediately switched on the transmitter. It flickered to life with a subtle hum.

"This is Blue Tiger, Code 5665. We've got movement in the southlands, about three-hundred miles south of IC."

The response took a moment, the words coming with a sharp accent. "Confirmed, Blue Tiger. How many?"

"About fifty, I'd wager. Armed, with a weird "E" symbol on their uniforms. Don't know who they are."

"Understood, Blue Tiger. Do you need to be extracted?"

"No," replied Hudson. "I'll track them for a while. I don't think they've seen me. I'll pack up and follow, and report in later."

"Confirmed, Blue Tiger. We will communicate with you at that time."

Hudson switched off the transmitter, and stood quiet for a moment, listening. He could have sworn he heard something, but he wasn't sure. Reaching to his shoulder holster, he pulled out Fiona, his trusty 12.7mm pistol, holding it warily before him and glancing about.

He approached the tunnel, listening intently, and yet again, silently cursed himself.

I probably should have taken the extraction.

Bluey looked through his binoculars and gazed at the large group that was moving towards him and his boys. He was out on a usual hit and run mission on a settlement to the south to test their defences. It wasn't until this new lot popped up that he stopped and took notice. He saw that there was a whole bunch of them, they looked like pros and had some great gear on them, as well as some weird E thingy on them. He looked at his lot, and frowned. He mostly had a lot of Jet guys with him, they were good as snipers and gunners, as well as a few Psycho users who were mainly crowd control, all in all he had about 30 with him, all pissed off and itching for a fight. "Alright folks, change of plans." He spoke to his boys, "We got some new jacks coming towards us, and they mean buisness. The usual plan for an ambush, dig find somewhere with protection and cover yourselves with snow. We may need bait, you!" He pointed at a Raider who was a heavy user of MedX and liked to use clubs. "Lie down in the centre here and bleed a little, just enough to make it look like your badly hurt. When they come to check ya, beat their heads in." Everyone nodded and got to work, the MedX boy grabbed a gun and shot himself in the side, just enough to bleed a lot without doing too much damage, or at least what he thought he could live with, and played dead, right in the middle of everyone waiting as patiently as they ever could.

“Sir!” Cried the Officer with the unusual PDA as he ran towards Davis. “We’re here! But… I don’t see anything. How, how can that be? These are the precise coordinates given by President Irons.”
However, Davis did not seem moved, he merely inspected the horizon, as if he attention was drawn to it; but he then suddenly remember that time was critical here.
“Fear not Lieutenant, it’s here.” He answered, crouching down and brushing the snow away. As the snow clear, a small metallic disk revealed itself. It was an intended logo that held resemblance to that of their own. Again he looked up, knowing that he was being watched, but he couldn’t delay any further. From his pocket he removed a coin with the Enclave logo carved into it and placed it gently within the crucible then stood back up again.

He took a few steps back and for a while nothing happened. The murmurs of disappointment swept over the troops, but before and could suggest that this activity was a waste of time, the recognisable sound of layers of snow and ice cracking roared thunderously through the dead forest.
From the floor, a metal structure rose, covered in snow and ice that fell as the structure continued to grow unaccountably. Most of the troops retreated to a jogging pace well away from the structure. – Military Origin. It took about twenty minutes before the shaking and deafening sound to stop.



“My God…” The officer whispered under his breath.
“Time?” Davis commanded, seemingly unimpressed by the structure that grew in front of him. The officer scramble from his awe shock and rushed to operate his PDA.

“Two hours til pass over, Sir!” the Officer replied.

But before Davis was able to issue any orders, the faint echoing of a gunshot disrupted his trail of thought. He immediately turned to the troops, signally a particular squad and pointing towards the ridge.

“Zion Squad, investigate that disturbance!” He bellowed.

No confirmation was needed, five of the troops then began to head towards the location of where the gunshot was heard while to others followed Davis into the base.

Abram had been tracking the strange group of soldiers for quite a while now. He knew enough from his 213 years as a ghoul to recognize the star-encircled 'E' as the symbol of the Enclave, remnants of the Pre-War US government and military, though they hardly acted anything like their predecessors. As he watched them from a distance through his rifle's scope, carefully adjusting the zoom occasionally, he noted that they seemed to be searching for something. Shifting position to both move closer and provide better cover in the foliage, Abram watched in shock and awe as the base arose from the ground. "Well, that can't be good." He mumbled to himself. He noted another group of the soldiers trekking off into the forest, while the others entered the base. Taking great care to avoid being spotted by the main force, he began to track the smaller group, noting the bleeding man lying the ground, who looked much like the area's local raider population. "Odd for the raiders to be operating this far out during the winter." Abram spoke to himself as he peered through the rifle scope yet again. Probably an ambush, best to wait until the shooting starts before making my move. he thought, rushing to stack snow and foliage around him as a means of cover. With that done, he took to the scope one last time, watching and waiting for the perfect opportunity to make itself clear. Keeping the rifle propped up on a log, one hand on the grip, He thumbed the small cross around his neck, praying for safety, and for his shots to fly true.

The rumble was unmistakable - Something was moving out there. Something big.

A deathclaw? They hated the winter. Preferred to stay inside. Maybe a behemoth?

Hudson knew that super mutants would sometimes migrate south for the winters, if only because they weren't huge fans of the snow. They could certainly handle the cold just fine, often better than most of the winter residents, but food was scarce in the winter, and outside of just raiding the hell out of everything (and having to deal with Imperial forces), it was easier to follow the wildlife and hunt down radstags and the like in the North West Commonwealth.

So outside of the two brutish predators that he knew about, what the hell was making that sound?

Feeling the familiar weight of his pistol, he knew he had seven shots in there, along with the six or so clips on his leg pouch. If things started getting nasty, he wanted to be sure he was ready.

He stepped back to the table, re-clipping the transmitter into its spot on his backpack, and loading up a few supplies. He was either going to be getting out of here or not, and he was pretty sure he wouldn't be coming back to the bunker. He tossed his ammo sling over his shoulders, strapped his pack down tight, holstered Fiona and snatched up his rifle as he made his way toward the sound, that just seemed to be getting louder, echoing its way through the tunnels with almost mechanical shrieks.

What is that noise?

He made his way down the tunnel stealthily, glancing about for an ambush as he reached the entrance. There didn't seem to be anyone nearby, and so he crept his way out, following his earlier footprints in the snow. Calmly, he approached a nearby building - an abandoned pre-war home from the looks of it, and slipped up to the second floor.

The house, much like the bunker entrance, were at the top of a small ridge overlooking the rest of the decimated town. He'd chosen this area specifically because it was high, and therefore would be an excellent vantage point if he needed to make a quick getaway. Thus, it was a great view of what was going on.

Laying down inside, and even before peering through his scope, he could easily see what was still causing the impressive, echoing noise.

In the middle of the town, an unreasonably large military building was raising itself out of the ground, emerging from the frozen earth as if from the grave, shedding snow all about as it began to tower into the sky. It was easily several stories tall, knocking trees and buildings alike to the side as it rose into place with an enormous clatter.

Hudson could hardly believe his eyes, and for a moment he forgot to breathe.

Apparently, the entire town had been built right on top of the place, and the building was designed to raise itself on massive gears up into place at... What? The push of a button?

While he'd certainly seen his share of crazy tech over the years, especially considering some of the Imperial Science Division projects he'd been a part of, there was no indication that there was a facility of this size here, so close to Vancouver. This was massive, and Hudson could only imagine the kind of tech that was in there. The ISD boys would have a field day.

The soldiers near the facility were simply watching the building continue to rise, some scanning the area, but most gawking just like Hudson was. With them mostly standing in place, he could see by the main concentration that his count had been right. There were somewhere between forty and fifty of the mask-wearing soldiers, though he could tell by their stances that they were being led by the one in some new variant of Power Armor.

Damn. I've only got one mag of AP rounds. There's no way I'll punch through that thing.

In the hands of each of the soldiers was well-maintained plasma rifle, and Hudson grinned. That would make an impressive trophy if he could snatch one on his way back home. Plus, he was sure the Imps could figure out all kinds of things based on weapons and gear that he recovered.

These were the kinds of extra bonuses that kept a merc like him employed. He started pondering a way to lure a few of the soldiers away. He didn't have the gear or the patience to take on the entire platoon, but two or three of them? He could drop them and loot them and be gone before anyone even noticed. His hand unconsiously reached back and tapped the handle of the combat knife on his thigh.

Cool and quiet.

Pulling his eye away from his scope, Hudson glanced about, and noticed that not even one-hundred yards away, the noise had attracted a few more visitors. From the looks of them, a group of raiders, about twenty or so, were gathering up. By their ragged appearance and less-than-impressive armor, he guessed they were Chemmies, the nickname Hudson had given to the heavy chem-using raiders who preferred their drugs to smart protection.

Well, this ought to be fun.

As the giant building finally settled into place, the enormous gears finally grinding to a halt, the raiders hid themselves about, except for a single one, who nonchalantly took a gun, and shot himself in the side, bleeding into the ground as he laid himself down.

Med-X. An ambush.

Responding to the sound, five of the troops began making their way toward the raiders, as the rest marched right into the facility.

Hudson smirked at the raiders' cleverness, and realized that he could probably take advantage of the situation. Five soldiers was a lot, but if he timed it just right, he could snag one of them, possibly even alive, and get some information and tech in the confusion.

Slowly, he lifted himself up and headed down the stairs, weaving through the buildings well away from the soldiers' approach, so as to come up behind them.

“Anythin’ will taste nice if you stuff it full of fruit and drown it in brandy; A mole rat iz no exception.”

“That as may be,” Matthew Dupont reasoned, scrunching up his nose slightly “but you might as well inject yourself with a syringe full of liquid radiation, for all the good eating a mole rat will do you.”

“Itz a clean mole rat.” Galhaena Calhoun insisted, shoveling another forkful of fried mole rat into her mouth.

“Those snag-toothed freaks role in their own shit and munch on trash! There’s no such thing as a clean mole rat.” Dupont scoffed, a crooked grin sliding up the side of his cheek.

“Well, I for one intend to enjoy every inch of Vancouver whilst I’m back down ‘ere.” The large woman took a delicate sip of something bitter and purple, wrapping her hand around the smooth glass cup.

“How’s it feel to be back home?” Dupont asked, smiling lightly after a brief pause.

“Odd,” The Trade Queen said simply “Feelz like I haven’t been here since I was a little girl.”

“Wouldn’t have been possible to make it cross-country without getting ripped up by zombies or Yao Guai when you were a little girl.” Dupont gave a throaty little chuckle “You’ve even started talking like one of those Quebecois.”

“Just going with the flow, Dupont.” Galhaena shrugged her broad shoulders “getting to sleep on a warm feather bed instead ov rubble and piss ‘elps to ease the burning shame of my outrageous conformity.”

“How about the burning pressure of running the Coalition?” Dupont asked, somewhat more seriously.

“I can dedicate day after days to keeping everything in check, and all it takes is one tiny little error to fuck everything up,” Galhaena admitted “It's...stressful.”

“Have you tried furiously masturbating?” Dupont smirked “that always helps me to relieve stress.”

Galhaena grinned ever-so-slightly, fluttering her eyelids “I’d never get any work done.”

“Never let work get in the way of a good workout.” Dupont declared loudly.

“Even if it's just my vagina that’s getting the workout?” She laughed softly.

“The vagina is a very important part of a woman’s body, madam.”

The hall that the pair were dining in had been little more than a pile of dust and rubble a few years back, but now it was a cathedral of high-ceilings and smooth brick. All across the frozen vastness of the Canadian Wasteland, bombed out ruins had been swept away and replaced with shanty towns and scrap metal shacks. The crippled husks of concrete leviathans had been restored to their pre-war glory, as a wave of new industrialization swept across the crisp white post-apocalyptia. The Coalition may have made many enemies, and committed countless atrocities, but it had all been worth it in the end.

This isn’t a world you can afford to be nice in.Galhaena thought to herself.There’s no profit to be made in holding other people’s opinions in high-regard.

“So,” Dupont inclined his head with a gentle tilt “what do we do about these military types?”

The Enclave may have thought their arrival had gone undetected, but the Coalition had practically every inch of the surrounding area mapped out.

“Mercy isn’t something zhat people such as ourselves can afford to extend,” The Trade Queen said in a voice that was as cold and firm as the empire she governed “its time we buried them in the snow.”

Bluey and his crew were in place when five of the E Troopers came walking towards them. They were being careful and searching very carefully to see if they have an ambush scenario on their hands, luckily they seemed to be blind as bats. The lead Trooper walked up and rolled over Mr MedX, when he did, he caused the Raider to roll quickly and swing his club at his head, causing a large debt to appear on it. As soon as that happened, all hell broke loose. The first Trooper went down like a lead weight, either dead or knocked unconscious, and the Raiders fired upon the others. The MedX freak kept hitting the first one over and over again, until a Laser round went through his neck, killing him instantly. Bluey ran over to the body of the first Trooper, along with a few others, and put him on the shoulders of a Buffout man. "Go! Get that back to the boss!" The man nodded, and the Raiders covered him as he went. A few more of their number went down, some dead, others wounded, but nobody cared. They were in the moment, they wanted blood. And these E buggers were the ones they wanted.

“Contact!” One of the troops yelled as the lead trooper fell to the floor with a solid clunk as they began to open fire with shells of plasma whirling through the trees, cutting down a few of the raiders whose body parts dissolved into glowing green goo. However, the troops did not pursue them, the rifle that was lost held a bio-metric lock, while eventually it could be broken into, the actual effort to do so would outweigh the worth of the weapon. One of the other troopers picked up the fallen one and placed him over his shoulder, heading back to the base.

Meanwhile in the base, engineers had rushed off into various departments, preparing power generators and such, however Davis had taken the only operational elevator down to the furthest level in the base where in front of him was a large, vault like door. Beside it was a terminal in which red text dashed across the screen.
Davis moved up to it and began to type in a lengthy passcode which then opened the vault door.

Behind it stood a large supercomputer, a ZAX-OEMGA series to be precise. However, it had some… odd modifications to it. They were clearly not of American design and they were hooked up to what looked like cooling stations.
Davis strolled up to the main terminal and began to type.

ESTABLISHING SATELLITE LINK
LOADING…
LINK TO ENCLAVE.STATION.TAU ESTABLISHED
BEGIN DOWNLOAD.
21%...
37%...
62%...
88%...
92%...
DOWNLOAD COMPLETE.
UPLOADING A.I PERSONALITY: ENC.COMMAND/BACKUP/EDEN_PROJECT/LEVELSEVEN/IRONS
UPLOAD COMPLETE
BOOT SEQUENCE IN 3…2…1…
WELCOME BACK MR. PRESIDENT

When the fight broke out between the Raiders and the Enclave Troopers, Abram quickly lined up shots. With the echoing CRACK! of his rifle, one of the Enclave soldiers sustained a .308 leg wound, and dropped to the ground, blood staining the snow around him. Another loud explosion, and a Raider fell, his neck missing a large chunk. One more shot, and another Enclave man went down, his side gushing red from a gaping wound. With this, Abram took the time to reload his rifle, and carefully reposition himself, hiding amongst the foliage as he found a better position. From there, he took time to assess the situation, watching to see how the fight played out, making a mental note to clear out whoever lived from the brawl.

As the upload finished, more and more light began to flash rapidly in the room, hissing sounds of cooling canisters showed signs of a great beast awakening. Davis took a few steps back whilst saluting the terminal.
“Welcome to New Haven, Mister President.” Davis announced.

“Thank you Colonel. I can’t tell you how much better it feels to stretch my legs from that Deltron series… figuratively speaking.” The terminal spoke with a heavy southern accent. “Now that I am hooked up to this here much more… spacious facility, we can procced as planned.” He continued.
However, Davis was slightly anxious.

“Sir, I do not mean to be rude, but we have more current issues at hand. We need to get the base’s defences online a lot soon than expected.”
“I see… very well. Hold for a moment… Yes, seventy-two of the one hundred and fifty quad-guass turrets are operational… activating now. Anyone extra I should look out for, Colonel?”

“No sir, if they’re not on our mission roster, they are enemies of the Enclave.”

“Understood.”

Outside warning sirens began to play and a low, heavy hum echoed throughout the dead forest. On the base perimeter,turrets began to grow. Then the buzz of charging sounds soon made themselves known.

Suddenly they began to fire towards anything that was in line of sight. Trails of pure energy made short work of any poor soul that came into contact with it, reducing them to nothing but ash. The turrets themselves were layered in 60cm titanium plating. Meaning that small round fire would have little effect on them. However, the downside was that their movement for targeting was slower. But the sheer number of turrets made up for this flaw.

Things went to hell well before Hudson could get into position. The raiders had pounced on the soldiers as soon as they'd reached the ruse, and suddenly blasts of plasma and dying screams echoed across the canyon. Still, though, Hudson peered around one of the buildings, searching for a moment to snatch something of value. He'd rather not leave this kind of engagement empty-handed.

The unmistakable "crack" of a hunting rifle caught his attention as a bullet pierced through the leg of one of the soldiers, sending him to the ground. Hudson leaned hard into the wall at his right, and started to scan, looking for a giveaway. It had to be a sniper, obviously, but if it was shooting at the soldiers, likely not one of their allies.

Or, just a really bad shot. Even in mortal danger, Hudson couldn't help himself.

He kept his eye on the other side of the valley, but still couldn't spot where the shot had come from.

CRACK! Another shot, and this time, a raider fell, a large chunk of his neck missing as the body twitched on the ground. Hudson kept his scan, and then he saw it.

The glint.

On the other side of the town valley, about three hundred or so yards off, Hudson noticed that some foliage was built up, hiding the shooter. He pulled his scope to his eye, and noticed, behind the scrub and snow, a shape was going through the well-rehearsed motions of reloading the rifle. He knew that the bolt-actions took a little time, and so prayed he had enough.

Hoping the shooter was using one of the popular hunting rifles, Hudson bolted along the far building and brush, moving quickly, but trying not to catch attention. With the main skirmish drawing attention, he should rather easily go unnoticed.

He kept up his sprint, avoiding the deeper drifts as much as he could, finally making his way to the other side of the valley, hopefully out of the sniper's notice. He turned back quickly, seeing that two of the Enclave soldiers were holding holding off the flank as the other, uninjured one had tossed the first with a leg wound over his shoulder in a fire carry, and was hoofing it back to the main building.

I'll have to loot the raiders if I want to get anything, here.

Shaking his head quickly, he continued his way up the valley side, and quietly approached the impromptu sniper's nest from behind, having slung back his rifle and pulled Fiona from her holster. The sounds of battle and blasts were still echoing, and so his footsteps seemed not even to make a sound.

He peered inside, but there was no one there. There was the imprint of a body in the snow, as if someone had recently been set there, but it looked like he'd moved on. Hudson noticed the tracks, and followed slowly, right into some scrub foliage a ways off. There, in the trees, he finally saw him.

Abram.

He'd had dealings with the infamous ghoul hunter a few times over the years. Sometimes they were on the same side. Sometimes, they weren't. This time, Abrams hadn't shot at him yet, so Hudson hoped it hadn't just been a lack of opportunity. But if he was taking pot shots at the soldiers, it seemed the two might end up being on the same side of this particular conflict.

Creeping up, Hudson kept his pistol aimed ahead, hoping to get into a better position before giving himself away.

But as he approached, a cacophony of grinding sounds came from the pop-up complex in front of them, and Hudson risked a glance to see numerous bristling turrets twisting into place, with twelve or so of them aiming directly at both Abram and himself.

Aw, hell.

"Get down!" Hudson shouted as he rushed forward, tackling Abram to the ground. The space above them as they landed behind a berm was perforated by laser fire.

Bluey noticed a few of the E Troopers going down from unknown fire. Then a few of his were killed by some sniper. Never the less, they were doing well, until turrets started popping up. As soon as those turrets started to rise, he knew he had only one option. Shit his pants and run. So he ran, "Run for it boys! Get the fuck outta here!" Just as he made it into some heavy cover, the turrets whirred to life, and rained hell on his guys. When he looked around, only a few other Raiders had made it. Whatever was inside that base, it was important. He took his guys and silently slipped away, heading back to base to inform the boss.

Soon the guns died down, anyone or anything within their targeting path had either ran to safety or had been vaporised into ash. Suddenly everyone with a radio through the wasteland had their channels automatically changed to the Enclave Station.



As the broadcasts stops, everyone's radio disconnects from the Enclave channel.

Taking a handful of shots at the raiders and Enclave soldiers had helped thin the crowd a bit, but the fight was still going strong. As Abram watched through the scope of his rifle, he noted some movement further down the line of sight. Spotting someone darting through the trees, he tried to focus in on them, but to no avail. Instead, he sent a few more shots into the raiders and soldiers. That's when the rumbling started from the base. Massive turrets arose from the ground, tracking and lining up with everyone nearby, charging up for their shots. Abram was already in the motion of ducking down, when a body came hurtling at him and tackled him to the ground, with a familiar voice shouting at him to get down. As the two tumbled down, the area Abram had been lying in was suddenly ripped to shreds with turret fire. When the guns eventually died down, Abram looked up at the face of one Garrett Hudson, a former partner and enemy he had worked with in the past. "Well, shit Hudson...at least buy a guy some dinner first." Abram grumbled, rolling out from underneath him, but still keeping low enough to avoid being spotted by the gun turrets. "How about we get out of here, then you tell me just what the hell's going on, eh?" He said, sneaking carefully through the brush, away from the Enclave's newest HQ.

@Korbanjaro

@Kingfisher

Somewhere over the skies of Vancouver

The unmistakable sound of rotor blades scrapped the sky. There, battling through the harsh upper winds of Canada was an Enclave Vertibird, clearly heading down south. However, something was off about it. While it was up against harsh conditions, Enclave pilots knew how to fly in these environments, but the Vertibird was all over the place. That’s when it began to nosedive directly into the snow below.
There was a faint explosion that was muffled by the wind.

At the crash site was a much more devastating sight. For a moment it had seemed that the personnel inside had survived, looking over the crash site, it wasn’t until you saw their blood soaked faces that one could tell something was amiss.

Their armour pieces which had fallen of revealed flesh that continued to peel from the bone and a groaning from the troops was constant. However, these were unlike anything seen before. Not even ghouls acted like this... this was something new.

Normally, Hudson would be making jokes, but when automatic fire was shredding everything just molecules over his head, his ability to snark was significantly reduced. Instead, his focus was just on making himself, and by extension, Abram, sink as completely into the frozen Earth as possible. He silently cursed himself for even getting into this kind of predicament.

Five hundred caps really isn't worth all this, is it?

Just as suddenly as it began, the turrets wound down. The mechanical whirring slowed, and finally there was mostly silence across the valley. It took a moment for Hudson to realize that he probably wasn't going to die here, and so he risked a look, peering out over the berm.

The guns had moved back into a stationary position, and it looked like the coast was finally clear.

Hudson's impromptu mattress groaned.

"Well shit, Hudson..." The ghoul grumbled, pushing the merc off of himself and rolling out of the non-unimpressive indentation they'd made in the dirt. "At least buy a guy some dinner first."

"Come on Abram," Hudson grinned, pulling up to a crouch and picking up his rifle. "I thought you ghouls liked rough foreplay."

They both glanced about, making sure not to be spotted, and Abrams took the lead, making his way further up above the valley, staying in the brush.

"So what are you doing here?" Asked Hudson in a hushed tone. The ghoul turned back, a bit of chiding in his voice.

"How about we get out of here, then you tell me just what the hell's going on, eh?"

Hudson nodded.

The two continued further, eventually making their way out of what they assumed was the facility's attack range, before finally standing up. Hudson placed his pack and rifle on the ground and stretched his back, swearing he could hear a snap or two as a couple of his vertebrae clicked themselves back into place.

"You know, you're not a comfortable body pillow," said Hudson, twisting his torso and rolling his neck. In doing so, he glanced at his pack.

Right through the transmitter was a shiny silvered slag hole, evidence of a plasma round which had blasted clean through it.

Damn it!

He turned to Abram.

"So, I'll be honest - I don't know what's going on down there. I'm here on Imperial freelance, only. They wanted some southland scouts at five-hundred caps for a two-week contract. Whoever these magic pop-up facility assholes are, I'm sure the Tinsui would pay even more to know they're here, but..."

He indicated the slagged transmitter.

"But with the transmitter busted, the closest Imperial scouting station is about fifty miles north of here."

Hudson turned back to Abram.

"Did you get the same job? Or are you on the Coalition for this one?"

Abram led Hudson away from the compound as best as he could, his worn sidearm from his service in the Army drawn and aimed at every possible alcove for enemy positions along the way. As they crept, Abram thought to himself Wonder what the odds are on meeting Hudson all the way out here? If I was a betting man, it'd probably be a quite a pretty penny. When they finally reached a seemingly safe position, they both stood from their crouched positions, Abram grunting slightly as his ancient bones readjusted.

"You know, you're not a comfortable body pillow." He heard Hudson grumble, and replied with a quick "You're no Tempur-Pedic yourself.." as he rubbed and massaged one of his shoulders. Abram also noted Hudson glancing over his transmitter, and saw the plasma hole. Hudson then told him about the assignment he had gotten from the Imperials, asking him if he was on the same job, or if the Coalition had sent him.

Abram looked to Hudson and said "Actually, I was out hunting when I noticed those guys come storming through the forest, scared all the game away. So I followed 'em, and lo and behold they're the Enclave. If you aren't aware, the Enclave is some kooked-up army group convinced they can" Abram gives a snarl and some sarcastic airquotes, "'rebuild America' by killing anyone irradiated or mutated, which includes basically anyone not born in a vault. I had a spat with 'em back in 2242 down in California. Some tribal kid blew up their base out in the water, and so the locals got together and kicked the rest of them out of their base on the coast. A pretty decent-sized handful of 'em got away, so it's no big surprise they're back..." He took this time to pull out a cigarette and light it, sucking on it a bit before speaking again.

"Anyway, if they're here, and you're working for the Imperials in this area, they'll wanna know. We should get to that scouting station as soon as we can. We'll have to camp out once it gets dark though, but we should be far enough out that the Enclave won't see us."

Deep within the base, Davis had moved up into the secondary labs, scientists and technicians were already hard at work getting it up to a fully operational state. Davis panned for the power button and activated it.




Soon the lights revealed the true potential of the lab. In the centre laid a holographic schematic table that brushed through different prototypes including a new Mk.3 ‘Ultimate’ Power Armour. However, on the walls was a more… ghastly sight.

Test subjects encased within Vita-Pods labelled Alpha-001 through-009. These were some form of new FEV super solider program that had been set during the Great War. But was supposed to have been shut down due to ethical reasons.

In front of Davis was the ‘Overlord’ terminal. This oversaw every section of research throughout the base and where he inserted the new canister of Irons’s own FEV and began the replication process.

Abram explained who this "Enclave" was, and though Hudson smirked at the locals kicking their asses out of California, the idea of yet another group crowding their way into the wasteland with guns and power armor ticked all the wrong boxes for him.

The Enclave - Great. Another "kill-everybody-and-smile-at-you-for-the-honor-of-it" circus. Thought I'd left that shit behind.

Hudson had never much liked dealing with the "big dogs" of the wastes. The Brotherhood, NCR, the Khans - They were all the same to him. Bullies who took what they wanted, when they wanted, and damn whoever decided to get in the way. He'd fought for his freedom before, and he'd do it again. He wasn't about to let some group pop in with their plasma rifles and force their way into Vancouver. Even if he had to blow their little magic base down there back into its own crater all by his lonesome.

He sighed - his own bluster wasn't going to take care of this. He'd need help, and when it came to dealing with big guns, you needed big guns of your own.

While it'd taken a little time to earn their trust, Hudson was actually rather chummy with the Tinsui these days. He'd become one of their go-to scouts, especially down in the southern borders, and the fact that the ISD knew him by name for his various tech deliveries surely meant he was "part of the team," didn't it?

Noticing the cigarette in Abram's mouth, he almost asked for one just to calm his nerves. Not that he'd ever actually smoked before, but he'd heard that was what the things were for, right?

"Anyway," said Abram, taking another drag. "If they're here, and you're working for the Imperials in the area, they'll want to know."

"True enough," replied Hudson. "And I want to get paid." Abram nodded.

"We should get to that scouting station as soon as we can."

"It'll be a trip, but not too bad. Probably four days. Not sure if there's going to be much hunting along the way."

Seeming to consider this, Abram breathed some smoke out into the wind. After a moment, he seemed to make his decision.

"We'll have to camp out once it gets dark, though..." He glanced back at the path the two had just come from, and Hudson followed his eyes.

"But we should be far enough out that the Enclave won't see us."

Hudson agreed, picking up his pack, but keeping the damaged transmitter. Salvage was salvage, after all.

"So much for getting my hands on a plasma rifle," he sighed and chuckled, picking up his rifle. "Alright. Let's get moving while there's still light out."