The Legion - I-70 Eastern March, Near Burlington

After passing the border outpost, the marching legions of Legate Aurelius continued onward down the old I-70 interstate towards Burlington. They kept a steady, disciplined pace, and the vanguard of the legion expedition was already approaching the outskirts of the town. At the head of the column, Aurelius and a disguised Vulpes Inculta observed as they past farmland and wasteland homesteads, which were sparse at first, but became more frequent as they came closer to Burlington. As they past by, curious Midwesterners approached the marching column to catch a glimpse of the line of crimson legionaries and brightly colored horsemen. Some remained quiet and merely watched with curiosity, others cheered their arrival, but none appeared overtly hostile.

"An odd change of pace isn't it?" Aurelius said as he turned to Vulpes, "To be welcomed into a region with open arms, rather than being shunned as conquerors."

"And they never seem to understand when they're conquered," Vulpes replied, "Marching with one eye on the road and another on the hills around you leaves one feeling remarkable less hospitable to the populace."

"Well this time we're guests, not invaders. Lucius charged me with the war in the east and to represent the standard of Caesar to the Midwest. I will show Barnaky that the Legion is not just a buffer to the NCR or a band of untrained tribals. They'll be no troubles with the local populace, and any of my legionaries that starts it will be up on a cross before nightfall." Aurelius's fist clenched around the reigns of his horse as he uttered the threat.

"None would dare shame Caesar in the lands of our allies. Of that you can be sure. And once we reach the front lines...."

"We'll show this 'Cult' no mercy. They'll be eradicated. Each and every one of them. Lanius was called the Monster of the East. I will show them that I am the Monster of the West."

"Machetes, spikes, and crosses then," Vulpes chuckled, "Like the old days. Between you and me...I missed it."

The galloping hooves of a horse coming down the road from Burlington broke the two men's conversation as one of the Legion's outriders rode up to Aurelius and offered a sharp salute,

"Ave Legatus."

"Ave Legionnaire. What is your report?"

"The Midwestern commander of the Burlington garrison offers his greetings. He bids me to inform you that they're expecting our arrival and their engineers have prepared an area for encampment with adequate water sources and sanitation. The depot is also being readied and trains can soon begin transporting men and supplies eastward."

"Excellent. We'll make our way there at once and I will order the men to construct a camp. It will take several hours for the full compliment of the column to arrive, but once the men have rested and resupplied we can begin boarding."

"I would like my Frumentarii to travel east with the first group," Vulpes offered, "Once there, we can begin properly assessing the situation."

"Agreed. See that its done Vulpes. Legionary, inform the commander that I would be glad to receive him in my tent if he would like to discuss the logistics. Otherwise, thank him for his assistance."

"At once Legatus!"

----

Lancer-Sergeant "Robert Kyle" - Markle, Indiana

Captured, by raider savages.

Robert lambasted himself for his failure. The Elder had charged him with making contact with the Midwestern chapter, and he'd been captured by raiders. Shortly after he'd touched down outside of town, he'd been rushed by large group of the psychopaths. Apparently they'd seen his vertibird and prepared an ambush. Knowing he could never fend off such a force on his own, he'd activated the vertibird's self-destruct mechanism to prevent such technology from falling into their hands. He'd been prepared to do the same to himself, but had been captured before he could carry that out.

Now he'd been thrown into some godforsaken rusted prison in the middle of some backwater raider town. The ignominy of it was not lost on him.

Caw! Caw!

Robert looked up with surprise to find a fat black crow sitting comfortably on the upper rafters of the prison.

Caw!

"Now how'd you get in here?" Robert muttered to himself as he looked up at the strange bird. The crow unnerved him for a reason that he couldn't really explain. It was just sitting there...almost like it was staring at him...judging him even. And he couldn't help but notice the usually red eyes the creature seemed to have...

Caw!

The crow quickly flew away and out a small hole in the metal roof of the building as one of the raiders came into the room.

"Like your new home, Brotherhood bitch?", the raider sneered, "Well don't get used to it....we'll be taking you to Ft Wayne soon enough, the Big Boss will no doubt have some questions for you. By the time he gets down with you, you'll wish I'd let the boys finish you."

Robert was about to reply, when he saw something behind the raider. Something that caused him to grin ever so widely. An Assaultron had appeared out of a stealth field, and quickly blasted him into oblivion. It freed the other prisoners first, before turning to him.

"You do not appear in our Codex, Brother", the Assaultron said, "Who are you?" it then added, "The short version, please...we have maybe fifteen minutes before the shit hits the fan here."

"Lancer-Sergeat Robert Kyle," Robert replied, as he stood up, "I'm with the eastern chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel. I was sent east to reconnect with our former Brothers...I'm the last survivor of a group of holdouts in The Commonwealth. Can you take me to your commanding officer?"

A Strange Visitor, 'Publick Occurrences', Diamond City - The Commonwealth

Piper looked up from her upstairs desk where she was working diligently on her next article as she heard the door swing open and close. Confused, she called out,

"Nat, is that you? I thought you wouldn't be home until later?"

There was no response, and the hairs on the back of her head began to stand up, "Nat?"

As quietly as she could, she reached for the 10mm pistol on her desk and grabbed it. She then began to head over to the stairs and carefully walked down step by step, keeping the pistol at the ready,

"Hello? Who's there?"

To her surprise, a croaky and coarse voice replied. One that sounded much like a ghoul but somehow...different,

"No need to roll out the red carpet on my account, but is a cup of tea and a fucking cigarette too much to ask for?"

As she continued down the stairs, she found a strange looking figure at the door. Dressed head to toe in an overcoat and wearing some kind of gas-mask apparatus which hid most of his face.

"Not like I expect any different. Apparently this dump of a town doesn't allow ghouls in. Hmmph. Morons. Do I look like one of those half-crazed ferals?"

"Who are you! Start talking!" Piper yelled, as she pointed her pistol at the stranger.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Lower it, now," The stranger replied, and before Piper could even react, he had a silenced 9mm pistol drawn and pointed at her, "Drop it, or I'll drop you. I don't like killing Dames, but I'll do it without a fucking second thought."

"Take off the mask...and then maybe."

"Fine. Have it your way." The stranger pulled at the breathing mask and took it off, letting it fall to the ground with a clatter, "I was getting tired of wearing that piece of crap anyway."

Piper wasn't surprised to see a ghoul staring at her, but she was surprised to find a ghoul with a full head of hair...and glasses, underneath that mask. If he was a ghoul...at least she could be reasonably sure he wasn't working for the Mayor...or The Institute.

She lowered her pistol, and the ghoul replied in-kind, "Alright....so what do you want."

"Information. That's all. And I've been led to believe you're just bird I need to see to get it."

Piper raised her eyebrows, "What sort of information?"

"I'm looking for someone...and old friend you might say...well alright not a friend. A rival. I believe you met him. He came in here himself a couple years ago...looking for someone as well. He's next on my list. Next in The Great Game. Wasn't sure he'd made it through...but now that I know he did...."

"Oh...you mean HIM," Piper replied, hardly holding back her distaste.

"Ah, so you have met. Good. Now lets just sit down and have a nice little chat. Hmm?"

"You're wasting your time. If you want to get to him. You'll never find it."

"It?"

"The Institute," Piper sneered, "That's where he is...after he abandoned us. Abandoned The Commonwealth."

"Can you blame him? The place is a hell-hole. Almost makes me wish I was back in Maryland....but don't worry, I know all about 'The Institute'. Was quite familiar with it before the war as well. I'll find it. Just tell me everything you know."

"Who...who are you?"

"The name's Desmond sweetheart. Desmond Lockheart."

Vault 0 - Knight-Captain Murphy

Murphy opened his eyes wide with surprise at the stranger's reply.

"Lancer-Sergeat Robert Kyte," Robert replied, as he stood up, "I'm with the eastern chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel. I was sent east to reconnect with our former Brothers...I'm the last survivor of a group of holdouts in The Commonwealth. Can you take me to your commanding officer?"

Before him, seated and wired up in their command chairs in a circle facing each other, sat his four comrades, three men and a woman. Their eyes were still closed, still concentrating on controlling their avatars. He turned to face one in particular, a rugged and wiry looking man in his late fifties, and spoke.

"Sir?", Murphy asked, "What are your orders?"

The man opened his eyes and looked at him and smiled.

"Bring him home, son", Barnaky answered warmly. His voice then changed to a no-nonsense tone as he began to issue orders rapid fire. "Alright people, new mission parameters. The new objective is to cover Murphy while he leads Brother Kyle...and the civilians if possible...to rendezvous with Delta and Echo Squad at the State Route 3 Bridge for extraction. I will create a distraction at that whorehouse on the West side of town since I'm already over here. Price, Whitman, Haddad....drop what you're doing and clear a path for Murphy!"


Markle Police Department - seconds later

"With pleasure", Murphy said through the assaultron as he twirled the laser rifle around deftly and offered it to Kyle butt first through the open cell door. "The rest of your gear is up front...once my comrades are in position, we'll get you and the civilians out of town." He then added, "I'm Knight-Captain Murphy, by the way...but you can call me Alex if you like."


Highway 3 Bridge, North end - about twenty minutes later.

Knight-Sergeant Harkness peered over the rusting chassis of a Chryslus sedan...it's pathetically unsafe atomic engine thankfully scavenged years ago...and waited patiently as the dot, representing Murphy, approached on the map provided by his suit HUD. He was curious about the man from Lyons's Brotherhood that Murphy had found. He had only been a Initiate of 12 when Lyons and his Chapter had passed through their lands, heading for the old US capital of Washington DC, they had heard little since beyond the occasional group from the West or couriers.

Eventually, he..thanks to the advanced sensors in his suit...saw a blur approach the pair of very nervous Raiders guarding a small building about thirty yards away and dispatch them both with a sword....shortly after that, a small group, three terrified looking civilians and a man that had to be Brother Kyle appeared around a corner and headed straight down the road for them.

"Package is inbound", Harkness radioed on the Tactical net for his command, "Echo...check fire until further notice, Delta, be ready to cover the package." Delta squad moved up, and took up firing positions. Once the party passed through the firing line, Harkness spoke again.

"Delta, weapons free", Harkness said, "Prepare to fall back once the package has reached the bridge."

As the group approached, Harkness stood up so they could see him.

"Welcome, Brother", Harkness said to Kyle as he switched his laser rifle to his left hand and offered his right to the man, "I am Knight-Sergeant Harkness...I command the force at this position." He gestured at the bridge behind him then continued. "We hold the bridge, so you're safe from this point. Please lead your charges across quickly...we have this bridge wired for demolition and we'll be dropping it into the river once you, and Delta squad behind you, are across."

snip - Double post

Lancer-Sergeant Robert Kyle, Markle Police Station
"With pleasure...I'm Knight-Captain Murphy, by the way...but you can call me Alex if you like."

Robert accepted the weapon with hesitation, happy to finally have the cold steel of a laser rifle back in his hands, but still unsure of what to make of the assaultron speaking with the voice of a human man. And why was it calling itself a Knight-Captain?

"Good to meet you...uhh sir," He replied, as he inspected the weapon before turning back to him, "I'm glad you came when you did. I was beginning to think these savages were going to get the better of me. I don't exactly know the full story of what's going on here, but I know there's wasteland savages to be killed and people to protect. That's enough for me for now. Lead on."

Robert followed closely behind the robot as it...or rather, Knight-Captain Murphy, led him through the winding streets of the town. Off in the distance, he could hear the sounds of an intense firefight coming from the center of the raider held area, and he guessed that this might be where Brotherhood forces were making an assault.

"If you do might a question or two," Robert asked the robot as he hopped over a broken piece of masonry that had fallen into the street, "What exactly is The Brotherhood doing here? Your objectives I mean? Is there some sort of technology that you're here to collect?"

"Our Mission?", Murphy said, "To reduce the crossing points for vehicles...and logistics...across the Wabash river to one. The strategic goal is to pin as many of them as we can to this spot, until we are in position to annihilate them."

"Reduce crossing points? This is a defensive operation then?" Robert turned as the sounds of several more explosions echoed around the town, "Doesn't exactly seem that way...what about you then, are you robotic or a brainbot of some type? We've had robots serve alongside Brotherhood Knights and Paladins back East, but I can't say I've seen one quite like you before. You seem...quite intelligent."

When an answer from the robot wasn't forthcoming, Robert stowed his curiosity for the time being and focused on the surroundings. He guessed that the Knight-Captain...or whatever it was, wasn't here to play a game of twenty questions with him. It had a specific mission to do.

More explosions from the town rung out, and Robert stopped briefly to turn to see a small fireball in the distance. Whatever was happening over there....it was obviously too much for the raiders.

Highway 3 Bridge, North end

As they approached the bridge, Robert saw a Midwestern Knight standing guard by the bridge and awaiting their arrival.

"Welcome, Brother", Harkness said to Kyle as he switched his laser rifle to his left hand and offered his right to the man, "I am Knight-Sergeant Harkness...I command the force at this position." He gestured at the bridge behind him then continued. "We hold the bridge, so you're safe from this point. Please lead your charges across quickly...we have this bridge wired for demolition and we'll be dropping it into the river once you, and Delta squad behind you, are across."

"Thank you Knight," Robert replied, and returned the soldiers handshake, "Glad to meet you. I can't say I know where we're going, so I'll leave it to uhh..the Knight-Captain here," He gestured towards the Assaultron, "To keep leading the way. I'll be glad to get across the river and leave this wretched town quickly."

The sudden sounds of cawing caused Robert to turn his gaze upwards to see a murder of crows circling overhead in an odd pattern. He frowned, had those damn birds followed them all the way from the Police Station? He shook his head in disbelief.

SRB Situation Room, The Institute

"Alright people, what have we got?" The stern voice of Dr. Alana Secord was directed at the small team of SRB agents manning the terminals and monitors in front of her. Images of the town of Markle as well as several live feeds of the city flashed across the screens. One of them tracked the Brotherhood group that was now crossing the bridge out of town.

"Watchers have been deployed across the town and we're monitoring the on-going military operations there...Brotherhood forces appear to be marshaling for a potential assault south of the Wabash river," One of the agents reported.

"And the Synth?"

"Successfully made contact with a Midwestern Brotherhood contingent a little over twenty minutes ago. It appears they're bringing it south along with a group of civilians."

"Good news, have we managed to get any data yet?"

"The feed is a little choppy...the connection isn't as strong as we would like, given the distance involved, but we're collecting all we can. The Synth is sending back some confused analysis on the robot it encountered. Its treating the construct like a human, but isn't convinced that's what it is."

"An AI System?"

"Maybe..." The agent replied, "But it seems far more advanced than anything The Brotherhood has built....or tolerated...before."

"Could be a brainbot," Another agent replied, "Or a cyborg of some type."

"Keep monitoring the data and lets see if we can figure it out for certain. I want to know exactly what we're dealing with here...the entire point of this operation is to gather as much information about the Midwestern Chapter as we can. If The Brotherhood has advanced AI...I want to know everything about it."

"Yes Ma'm."

With the night looming North lit a cigar something they ran out of early on back home, while tobacco was still a thing among those who could make it; premium smokes had all been consumed. “How,” North said coughing “do people smoke these.” Smothering it in the ashtray North looked out the window onto the lights that illuminated the streets, thinking. If only we could harness this industrial might, I fear however that House and company have no interest in those who crawl their streets. Pouring himself a nightcap North laid himself down earlier than expected but nonetheless ready to awake the next morning.

As the hours cranked out days and weeks flew on the calendar recycled from years past a crew was on the tarmac setting up lights along the runway, "It’ll be a good while before these Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel arrive but having all in order beforehand was something Miss Heartgrove ordered as North had not quite docked." Said the worker to those gathered along the Airport's runway.

The Butcher at the port city of Stanton looked upon the waves as he sunk his cleaver halfway into a slab thicker than his arm the blood pooling at his feet until it swelled over into the sidewalk racing down to meet North Ashland as he stepped foot on the rickety dock sticking to his boot like glue. Taking note of the large ship that arrived the Butcher hung his best pieces crudely impaling the chunks onto rusted hooks before yelling “YOU THERE! Get the finest meats in town! Everything from Earth Whale to a Northern Stag all at Harry’s Humongous Weiners. Come down and have a slab to take home to suckle.” Harry looked right into the eyes of a passing ranger who seemed to be wholly uninterested in everything he was selling, breaking off the momentary glance and returning to speak with one of his aides as they walked down the cobblestone and far from sight.

With beer in hand Nuke, the de facto mayor and deputy by circumstance stood over the police station balcony a sheriff wanted paper hung to the wall by a single tack. Ever since the rangers finally made a move on Warren Judge the mayor had hightailed it only to be gunned down miles away in a shack he set up for safety, leaving this city without a mayor and a drunkard who many questioned the actual gender of despite her endowments sitting in the highest office. The buds falling to the floor on a stained ashtray stand still crackled while Nuke lit up yet another cigarette her hand shook as she spotted North along the road. “Oi!” Flipping up her middle finger as she leapt over the rails. “When you gonna get someone’s a## up here you &*^*( before I snap dealing with these &&*()*. You come in here depose the mayor and yet leave me in charge!? When youse guys gonna send someone to run the place!?”

Stopping North shifted his foot and addressed her.”Nuke, as I told you we’re sending someone to deal with the lawlessness here.”

“Yeah and in the meantime it’s me and my one good arm keeping things in order, I have half a mind to pop a load off in your a@#. And I’m well equipped to do just that.” Tugging at her army fatigues as her duster covered her leather breastplate.

North replied with a chuckle, “I’d like to see you try bending me over but I am afraid I do have other business that needs my attention. I have not forgotten and will send someone capable soon.”

Nuke scoffed, brushing her hair back from the shaved side of her head.”Quick to end a war, slow to police your new territories. Being too nice and sending rangers all over isn’t gonna help protect what you have. But fine. Come back anytime, I’ll show you my place next time and force you to assume the position.” Cringing North looked away thinking ”Note to self, keep away from Stanton, and it’s bars. While Nuke kept her eyes on the rangers as they moved towards the gates.

However back at the docks, a sailor the rangers brought along wandered up to the Butcher while he was picking fat off his chin from the wild swings his cleaver took to slice up the cuts of hindquarters. “Fancy some butt,” He said as he slapped the meat in front of him. “See that tenderness, choice chops right there.”

“How much for a 12 ounce?”

With a grin which showed his mangled teeth the Butcher brought out a scale and pointed to his sign.

Highway 3 Bridge

Thank you Knight," Robert replied, and returned the soldiers handshake, "Glad to meet you. I can't say I know where we're going, so I'll leave it to uhh..the Knight-Captain here," He gestured towards the Assaultron, "To keep leading the way. I'll be glad to get across the river and leave this wretched town quickly."

"I've got to get back", Murphy replied, "Harkness will take care of you from here." The Assaultron's head swiveled to look at Harkness, he then added, "I need to create a distraction so Haddad can break contact....they've set fire to the barracks to try to smoke her out."

"I'll see to it", Harness replied, "Ad Victoriam, Brother!"

"Ad Victoriam". Murphy turned and jogged away, back towards the fighting. After a moment, he winked out of sight as the stealth field turned back on. Harkness issued orders through his suit radio for Delta squad to fall back across the bridge then he looked at Kyle. "Let's get you guys to the evac point. From the look on your face, Brother, you've got a lot of questions....and knowing Murph he probably didn't answer very many. Kyle immediately began asking question...Harkness listened patiently to the first as they walked back across the bridge.

"Our mission", Harkness asked, "It's a deep raid...the real fighting is down at Indianapolis. Fort Wayne is the main base for the Cult in the Indiana Wasteland, we're here to degrade their ability to reinforce Indy..to that end we're destroying all of the bridges across the Wabash but one. That will keep them fixed here until we've secured Indianapolis and can turn our full attention to Fort Wayne. The advance on Pittsburgh cannot truly begin until Ft Wayne has been Scourged."

Kyle then asked the next question.

"The Cult?", Harkness asked, "Sick fucks. They are based in Pittsburgh, though apparently they came from out East originally. They are basically what you get when you cross Raiders with a religious cult. Slaving, murder, cannibalism...you name it, they do it for fun. Not only to anyone they come across, but even to each other if they are deemed weak. What's worse is that they're growing both in power and numbers. They are a threat to civilization...any civilization..and the Lord Paladin has decreed that Pittsburgh be Scourged, and all followers of the Cult be put to the sword. Thankfully, folks out West are starting to see things our way. When you get back to base, they'll tell you a lot more than you will want to know about them.

Then came the next question, and it was the one Harkness knew he'd get eventually.

"Hmmm", Harkness said thoughtfully as he stepped over the corpse of a Raider...as they approached the center of the bridge more and more bodies, all Raiders, were strewn about....considering what he should say. "That's a good question....i'll answer what I can."

"Murphy is who he says he is", Harkness said. "He's a man, not a AI...not exactly, anyway...I guess the closest term I can think of is a cyborg. His situation is not unlike that of the Lord-Paladin himself...he was installed into the Calculator so that he could guide and control it." Harkness noticed Kyle was looking at him blankly.

"The Calculator? Surely you've heard of it?". He shook his head as Kyle indicated he had not. "I shouldn't be surprised...the Western Elders probably suppressed the reports Barnaky sent them about our War with the Calculator, if they even bothered to read them. If they didn't tell Lyons before he came East, they were small-minded fools indeed." He drew a deep breath and continued. "The Calculator was, and is, a Pre-War AI built to oversee Vault 0, which was designed by Vault-Tec and the US Government to oversee what they called the "Societal Preservation Program". Vault 0 was intended to house the pre-war intellectual elite in cryogenic suspension to ride out the war. Once conditions stabilized, The Calculator would wake them up, and together with the robot Army the Calculator commanded, would go out and rebuild America. Well, it worked about as well as you'd expect. Most everyone in the tubes died or suffered irreversible brain damage...due to shoddy manufacturing and failure to implement the designed backups...and without human oversight, or maybe just company, the Calculator went mad and decided it's mission was to wipe out humanity. Our ancestors fell right into the middle of it when we crashed outside Chicago....before you knew it we were fighting for our very lives. Eventually, we won...a Elite Squad broke into Vault 0 and disabled the factory making the robots and fought it's way to the Calculator itself. But then we were faced with a awful choice. Either destroy the Calculator, and lose it's store house of Pre-War scientific and technological data, not to mention the robots, forever, or install one of our own into the Calculator to take the place of of the human minds that had been intended to control it. Barnaky, the Lord-Paladin, chose to have his own brain installed into the Calculator. Together, they have ruled over our lands ever since. It hasn't been easy, and a lot of sacrifices have been made, but we're restored order and the Rule of Law to most of the Mid-West. We will not allow the Cult to undo everything we've achieved here."

(OOC) *Edit begins here*

Markle High School

In a third floor classroom, now a dormitory for Raiders, stiff and cooling in their bunks, their blood soaking the mattresses beneath them, a shimmering, indistinct figure leaned a gauss rifle against the wall and pried a board off one of the windows and looked outside. From the streets and parking lot, a storm of weapons fire and tracers lashed into the second floor, which the flames had already reached. A target spotted, the gauss rifle winked out of sight as it was picked up.

"Like shooting fish in a barrel", Haddad thought to herself with grim satisfaction as she took aim at the head of a Raider across the street, firing over the wreck of a Corvega blindly at the spot she had claimed her last victim from. These Raiders had no clue about how to deal with an opponent that knew what they were doing....she had killed twenty of them before they finally adapted the tactic of setting the building alight to burn her out. A sound tactic...at least against an opponent worried about burning to death...but merely an inconvenience for her. Her assignment was to keep the Raiders fixated on here here, and kill as many of them as possible while doing it. Survival of her avatar was merely optional. Even if they succeeded in disabling her avatar, she would be safe back in Kansas and all they would have is the opportunity to vent thier impotent rage against a broken robot. Haddad squeezed the trigger of her Gauss Rifle, and a bright flash lit up the room for an instant as the 2mm tungsten dart leapt from zero to Mach 7 in .001 seconds. The dart connected squarely with the side of the target's head, causing it to literally explode as the dart passed though and then into the right shoulder of the Raider to his left, erupting from just under his left armpit, then biting deep into the earth next to him. A third Raider to the left of the targets was showered in gore but unharmed as her companions, literally dead on thier feet, slumped to the ground just before the loud crack of the projectile reached them.

"Third floor!! Third Floor!", the Raider howled in fear and hatred as she turned and began to fire at the window the flash came from, spraying bullets from her rusty old R91 across the room indiscriminately, more Raiders joining in as they saw where the tracers were going. But it was too late, Haddad had already begin to move the moment after she took her shot, and the fusillade swept through a empty room, as she ducked down the smoky hallway towards the next firing point.

Outside

"You fucking asshole!", screamed Slade, beside himself with rage, as he stepped around the truck he had been taking cover behind and dumped another mag from his Chinese assault rifle into the third floor room the latest shot had come from, "When we catch you, we're gonna shove a pole up you ass and I'm gonna watch while the crows eat your eyes while you beg to be allowed to die!"

Slade didn't understand it, they had fired the building...after losing six soldiers in a futile attempt to storm it...but that Brotherhood bastard wasn't even trying to escape, just picking off soldiers one at a time with that cannon of his. With the building burning merrily, another assault was out of the question, all he could do is keep whoever it was penned up until either the fire did them in or they finally tried to make a run for it, and accept the steadily mounting losses. One thing was for sure, he wasn't about to let him escape after this...it was personal now.

Ducking behind the wreck to reload, a familiar shrill voice came from a cross street as a scrawny woman bearing a long staff emerged onto the street that ran in front of the barracks in the old High School. The flames from the burning building twisted her shadow in odd, and disturbing ways.

"The Missionary", Slade thought sourly, "what. the. fuck."

"I shall not fear, nor falter, for i know the place of us!", she said, stopping in the midlle of the street, facing him, waving her staff, "We are vermin, insects! Unworthy of his mere glare!"

"You.", Slade said angrily, "What the fuck do you want now, old woman?". He then added, get behind cover, or that Brotherhood shithead will take you out too."

"Beware, for he without enlightenment may fear his own demise, yet they who have seen, they who have witnessed know, that it does not matter..." Her words stopped, as she took in the madness unfolding around her. A laughter escaped her lips, as she threw away her stick, and spread out her hands, pointing on some of the fleeing raiders. "FOR WHAT FEAR DOES HE KNOW, WHO HAS NOT WITNESS THE MONOLITH IN ALL ITS GLORY! WHO HAS NOT SEEN WHAT PATHETIC BASE HAS HIS MERE EXSISTANCE..."

Slade opened his mouth to make a retort, but as his eyes made contact with hers, suddenly he could not think of what to say. After several seconds, which seemed like a eternity to him, his eyes widened with horror, as the final piece of the puzzle fell into place and he finally understood what was happening. Then rage...and purpose....filled him as he found his words once again.

"THE BRIDGE!", Slade bellowed, "This is just a diversion...they're going to blow the bridge!" He began to bellow out orders, grabbing a lieutenant and his set to keep the Brotherhood fanatic penned up while ordering the rest of his men to follow in the wake of the missionary, who was already striding towards the bridge.

Inside

"Are you seeing this, Command?", Haddad asked on the command net as she watched with astonishment as the ragged figure basically took charge of the Raider force with nary a peep of protest from their leader. "I've got a shot, should I take it?"

"Negative, Miriyam", Barnaky's voice came across the net, "Your Primary mission's accomplished. Let them go. Murphy, help Miryam deal with the stay-behinds then the two of you support Whitman and Price while they take a healthy piss in our friend's Sugar Bombs. Harkness, wait until they're on the bridge before you drop it." And then he added, "Son, if you can take that Cult freak alive, please do so."

Lancer-Sergeant Robert Kyle, Hwy 3 Bridge

"I'll see to it", Harness replied, "Ad Victoriam, Brother!"

"Ad Victoriam," Robert saluted, surprised but happy to hear The Brotherhood's rallying cry.

"Let's get you guys to the evac point. From the look on your face, Brother, you've got a lot of questions....and knowing Murph he probably didn't answer very many."

"He was a bit stoic," Robert nodded, "I assumed that had something to do with being a robot of course..."

Robert then began to repeat the questions he'd asked Murphy only moments before, and listened carefully to Harkness' responses,
"Our mission", Harkness asked, "It's a deep raid...the real fighting is down at Indianapolis. Fort Wayne is the main base for the Cult in the Indiana Wasteland, we're here to degrade their ability to reinforce Indy..to that end we're destroying all of the bridges across the Wabash but one. That will keep them fixed here until we've secured Indianapolis and can turn our full attention to Fort Wayne. The advance on Pittsburgh cannot truly begin until Ft Wayne has been Scourged."

"Yes....I'd heard mention of them before, but I can't say I know much about them or their operations here. We heard rumors of something stirring in The Pitt before our mission went to hell in The Commonwealth and we were cut off. What exactly are they?"

"The Cult?", Harkness asked, "Sick fucks. They are based in Pittsburgh, though apparently they came from out East originally. They are basically what you get when you cross Raiders with a religious cult. Slaving, murder, cannibalism...you name it, they do it for fun. Not only to anyone they come across, but even to each other if they are deemed weak. What's worse is that they're growing both in power and numbers. They are a threat to civilization...any civilization..and the Lord Paladin has decreed that Pittsburgh be Scourged, and all followers of the Cult be put to the sword. Thankfully, folks out West are starting to see things our way. When you get back to base, they'll tell you a lot more than you will want to know about them."

"Degenerates..." Robert replied, "I can see why you want to scourge them...what about Murphy? What is he, or it?"

"Murphy is who he says he is", Harkness said. "He's a man, not a AI...not exactly, anyway...I guess the closest term I can think of is a cyborg. His situation is not unlike that of the Lord-Paladin himself...he was installed into the Calculator so that he could guide and control it."

"The..uhh..Calculator?"

"The Calculator? Surely you've heard of it? I shouldn't be surprised...the Western Elders probably suppressed the reports Barnaky sent them about our War with the Calculator, if they even bothered to read them. If they didn't tell Lyons before he came East, they were small-minded fools indeed." He drew a deep breath and continued. "The Calculator was, and is, a Pre-War AI built to oversee Vault 0, which was designed by Vault-Tec and the US Government to oversee what they called the "Societal Preservation Program". Vault 0 was intended to house the pre-war intellectual elite in cryogenic suspension to ride out the war. Once conditions stabilized, The Calculator would wake them up, and together with the robot Army the Calculator commanded, would go out and rebuild America. Well, it worked about as well as you'd expect. Most everyone in the tubes died or suffered irreversible brain damage...due to shoddy manufacturing and failure to implement the designed backups...and without human oversight, or maybe just company, the Calculator went mad and decided it's mission was to wipe out humanity. Our ancestors fell right into the middle of it when we crashed outside Chicago....before you knew it we were fighting for our very lives. Eventually, we won...a Elite Squad broke into Vault 0 and disabled the factory making the robots and fought it's way to the Calculator itself. But then we were faced with a awful choice. Either destroy the Calculator, and lose it's store house of Pre-War scientific and technological data, not to mention the robots, forever, or install one of our own into the Calculator to take the place of of the human minds that had been intended to control it. Barnaky, the Lord-Paladin, chose to have his own brain installed into the Calculator. Together, they have ruled over our lands ever since. It hasn't been easy, and a lot of sacrifices have been made, but we're restored order and the Rule of Law to most of the Mid-West. We will not allow the Cult to undo everything we've achieved here."

"That's incredible," Robert said, with a mixture of awe and surprise, "I'm glad to see the Midwestern Chapter has fared far better than we did. Whatever our differences, at least we might both be considered Brothers-in-arms, and its good to know that at least one chapter has found success."

Once they reached the other end of the bridge, Harkness did a roll call to ensure that all squads were present, and then gave the order to blow the supports. The charges below the bridge detonated and the entire structure began to collapse into the river in spectacular fashion. The raiders would be unable to pursue them now, although Robert very much doubted that they would do so anyway.

"Weapons free", Harkness called out on his radio, "Light up any Raider you see.....the suprise package is en route...ETA 10 minutes."

"Surprise package?" Robert replied with unease as he gripped the laser rifle he'd be given tightly, "What sort of surprise are we talking about here?"

---

---

"I shall not fear, nor falter, for i know the place of us! We are vermin, insects! Unworthy of his mere glare!" A disgusting cough followed, as the Missonary once more felt the Agonizing pain creep up her throat, and she spat out the crimson blood onto the concrete below here. Both her hands gripped even more thight around the cold staff of steel, that was covered with symbols and scrolls of paper. For the unenlightened, it was just scrabblings, yet for the lucky few, who had glared onto the Monolith, there was a reason, a logic behind the runes. They had been burned into her mind, as she had been dragged in front of it, burning into her eyes, just as the name had burned her lips, tongue and throat, as she had screamed it out, baptized her with fire.

The Raiders had taken her for easy prey, when she had arrived, believing her just to be another refugee, fleeing from the coming storm. They had changed their view quickly, after spotting the runes and the fire in her eyes. She was one of his Missionaries now, spreading the word and wisdom of the Prophet to those who had not yet the chance to hear nor see it.

"Beware, for he without enlightenment may fear his own demise, yet they who have seen, they who have witnessed know, that it does not matter..." Her words stopped, as she took in the madness unfolding around her. Cries of Havoc, the cracking of lasers and the sounds of Soulless Automatons. A laughter escaped her lips, as she threw away her stick, and spread out her hands, pointing on some of the fleeing raiders. "FOR WHAT FEAR DOES HE KNOW, WHO HAS NOT WITNESS THE MONOLITH IN ALL ITS GLORY! WHO HAS NOT SEEN WHAT PATHETIC BASE HAS HIS MERE EXSISTANCE..."

Stumbling forward, she could not help but walking towards the bridge, still screaming out her words, from the top of her lungs. Even when the Explosion tore the foundation away, and made the center fall into the waves, she kept walking, fearless of the fight around her "BE AWARE, SLAVES OF STEEL! SERFS OF A BRAIN IN A JAR! FOR WE CAN KNOW NO FEAR! IT WHAT SLUMBERS UNDER DUNWHICH WILL AWAKE! AND IT SHALL FIND A REALM UNITED IN ITS WORSHIP! I HAVE SPOKEN THE NAME THAT BURNS!" The heat of a laser run past her shoulder, and she could feel how the cloth began to glow and burn. Falling down, she winced in pain, as she moved a hand on her shoulder, as once more, the smell of buring flesh filled her nose.

Stumbling back on her feet, she gasped, as she glared at the group. "THERE IS NO SALVATION FOR ANY OF YOU! UG-QUALTOTH WILL FEAST ON YOUR SOUL, AND CHEW ON YOUR SPIRIT..." It was then, that her eyes met Robert Kyte, before suddently stopping to scream. "S..souless Abomination..w..what is that thing...." For the first time since she had spoke that name, Maria Haggins felt Mortal Fear in her heart. Stumbling backwards, she began to crawl away.

---

---

The steps of the Warmasters Power-Armor were heavy, as they slowly stepped onto the bridge. Once it had connected two nations, then one, and then fire had swallowed it all. Now, it was a decaying carcass of a Structure, a pathetic display of metal and rust. A reminder of a dying nation, foolish and unenlightened of the glory that was he who slumbered! Yet, the Order had been given, and finally, he could continue to do his bidding. With a sigh, he reached around his head, to remove his helmet, taking it by the metal horns, he had attacked to it, before taking a look, into his own reflection. The Man, that long ago, had been Paladin Cranz, looked back at him, and a smile moved onto his disfigured face.

The ruin of an Old Military Truck, was sturdy enough to carry his weight, even with the armor on. Turning around, he looked at the sea of torches, lamps and candles behind him, and the masked faces that were hidden behind crude imitations of his power armor helmet. He had stopped counting their number, as the long march, and the fights on the way, had thinned their number. They were the Warmasters host! Sure, they lacked the Armor or the Weaponry from the forges of the Pitt, yet they would make up for it, in ferocity and brutality.

And in numbers!

Feeling a Raindrop onto his bald head, the Warmaster raised his arms, and the Sound of Thousands vanished in an Heartbeat. He could feel the eyes behind the masks watching him, and a feeling of mortal pride filled his chest. "I TOOK YOU TO THIS BRIDGE BECAUSE I PROMISED YOU WAR! I PROMISED YOU A WAR THAT WOULD SEE THE WORLD WASHED AWAY! A WAR THE SHALL SEE THE BLIND PROPHET IN HIS RIGHTFUL PLACE, AS THE RULER OF ALL OF AMERICA!"

He took a short moment, to turn around, and looked at the ruined city in the distance. If people were still there, they would be the first, to feel his Warhost, and be turned into slaves, warriors or food soon enough. "I PROMISE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU, THAT YOU MARCH WITH ME, TO THE END OF THIS WORLD! I PROMISE EVERY ONE OF YOU, THAT YOUR DEATHS WILL PLEASE IMMORTAL UG-QUALTOTH, AND THAT YOUR SOUL SHALL RESIDE IN HIS KINGDOM TILL THE END OF TIME! AND I PROMISE YOU, THAT WE WILL FOLLOW THIS ROAD, UNTIL WE ARE IN CHICAGO!"

A resounding roar came from the mass, followed by the chant of the faithful, as they began to cross the bridge. And from one moment to the next, a sea of people was washing past the Warmaster. The Cult had unleashed his hellhound!

Sanctuary Hills

The green and vibrant community of Sanctuary Hills felt warm and inviting as Thomas stepped out onto the sidewalk. He felt the warmth of the afternoon sun beating down and took a deep breath, before continuing on down the street. Dressed in his usual professional attire and carrying a briefcase. As he walked, Mr. Able who was in the process of mowing his lawn stopped to give him a wave,

"Afternoon Tom! Back from work at the College then? Hey the missus wants to know if you and your wife would like to have dinner next Tuesday. How about it?"

Thomas ignored the friendly neighborly banter and didn't even turn to look at Mr. Able. His rudeness, oddly enough, didn't seem to be noticed, and Mr. Able simply gave a friendly smile and went back to his yard-work with a cheerful whistle. Thomas continued onward without a word or any thought to any of his neighbors at all, but when reached the steps of his own front door though, his hand froze as he reached out to grab the handle. A thousand different thoughts raced through his mind, and he considered turning back and leaving right then and there.

I shouldn't be here. I need to leave.

"Dad's home!"

The voice coming from the window caused Thomas to look up, and shake him from his stupor. The face of a young boy was plastered against the glass, beaming a wide smile. He couldn't help but grin himself.

Against his better judgement, he stepped inside. As he sat his briefcase to the side, he was immediately set upon by the small boy, who ran and hugged him,

"Hello Shaun..." Thomas smiled as he wrapped his arms around him.

"Welcome home honey. You're early....I was just getting ready to start dinner." Nora walked up from across the room, and she leaned in to give him a kiss. Thomas winced at the touch of her lips, and an odd feeling washed over him. The thoughts from earlier once again rushed back.

"That's okay...actually, I was thinking...that...perhaps...perhaps I need to go."

"Go? But you just got here..." Nora asked with a quizzical turn of her head, "Shaun's been waiting for you all day to get home. Is something wrong?"

"No...everything is fine," Thomas stuttered, "I'm just..." He looked down at the face of his son, and saw the disappointment in the child's eyes. It was too much for him, and he couldn't bring himself to say it. "I'll just be a minute. Old Mrs. Abernathy stopped me on my way over and asked if I could help her move something. You know how she is. Tell you what, I'll go help her real quick and then I'll ask her if I can bring you back some of her cookies? How does that sound?"

"Yeah! That'd be awesome. Cookies for dinner!"

"No Shaun, cookies for dessert," Nora then turned to her husband and gave a wink, "I'm glad you aren't going far. You had me worried there for a moment...you're so thoughtful to help her....I love you."

"I love you too," He said, as leaned in to kiss her once more, "And you too Shaun. I love you."

"I love you too Dad. See you soon, okay?"

"Okay. I'll be right back," Thomas said as he stepped back out of the house and onto the sidewalk.

I can't...I can't keep coming back here.

He walked briskly down to the end of the street where an old woman sat rocking in her chair. She greeted him warmly, "Ooo evening Mr. Milburn. Come to help out an old lady?"

"Reset memory cycle for all units. Initialize sequence 'Lazy Saturday'. Enable looping. Authorization code: Omega 4 3 Ark." Thomas stated quickly.

The old woman froze, and her eyes stared up at him with a blank expression,

"Command accepted. Have a nice day Director."

Without another word, Thomas immediately began walking away and down the path that led out of Sanctuary Hills. As he was about to cross the small bridge that spanned the creek, he looked back one last time, sighed, and then pressed a button on an unseen panel. A door immediately opened up with a noticeable hiss, revealing a bright light beyond, and also showing the scenery to be the illusion that it really was.

He stepped out and the door closed behind him. Now inside the pristine looking observation room, he reached out and grabbed the carefully folded white lab-coat that had been left for him, and put it on over his clothes. As he did so, a door on the other side of the room slid open, and a young woman wearing a white and red jumpsuit walked in.

"Good morning Director Milburn. I apologize for the interruption."

"Not at all A4. I was just about to leave as a matter of fact. I've concluded my testing for the day. Go on."

"Thank you sir. I was asked by Dr. Secord to give you a message. She wonders if it would be possible for you to meet her in the SRB war room for a debriefing on the intel regarding the Synth infiltration of The Brotherhood of Steel. She says the mission is still ongoing, but that they've gained quite a bit of valuable information already."

"Of course. I'll head over to the Bureau right away then. I'm very interested to hear her status report."

"Very good sir. There is another matter that she wished to relay to you as well. You had asked that strict surveillance be placed on the Wright sisters' residence. An individual arrived at the Publick Occurrences office a short time ago. The subject in question had apparently asked about you specifically sir, and about your connection to Ms. Piper."

"And?" Thomas raised an eyebrow.

"The individual self-identified as 'Desmond Lockheart' and appeared to be a non-human 'ghoul'. SRB cross referenced this name against its internal database and found several references to him as a member of the pre-war international intelligence community, and a former agent of a pre-war British organization called 'MI6'. SRB advises that..."

Thomas held up a hand to stop her, "That'll be all. I'm familiar with the man in question...moreso than SRB ever could be. I'll speak with Dr. Secord regarding it when I arrive."

"Very good sir. That is all I had to report."

"Then before you return to your duties, I have a task for you of my own. I would like you to relay a message to someone else..."

"Of course sir."

Monitor Relentless - Whitefish Bay, Lake Superior

"What do you think is happening, Commodore?", Captain Barrett, Commanding Officer of the Relentless, asked pensively, before raising his spyglass to his eye again to scrutinize the columns of smoke curling up into the sky to the East, in the direction of the Soo Locks, or "The Passage" as most Lakemen called it now. "Calypso have a spat with the Canucks again?"

That was certainly possible, given Calypso's recent attack on Thunder Bay to punish them for "smuggling"...but Commodore Hackett didn't think so. The Passage was the only way for ships to cross from Lake Superior to Lake Huron...no Lakeman worthy of the name would dream of risking damaging it and sparking a vendetta with everyone who depended on the Lakes for their livelihood. Hackett had spent almost his entire life onboard ships..in fact, he'd even been born on one... before and after his people had given up their nomadic lifestyle on the Lakes and entered Lord Barnaky's service. And as for Calypso herself, she may well be crazy, but crazy like a fox. The tolls from passing lake traffic were the foundation of her wealth, she'd never cut off her nose to spite her face. He sighed and lowered his spyglass.

"No, Harry", Hackett said calmly, "I have a bad feeling about this. Make best speed for The Passage. Go to GQ when we reach the mouth of the St Mary. And send the radioman to my quarters...I must report this." He then began to climb down the ladder leading into the turret, stopping momentarily to add, "Send for me if anything unusual happens."

"Aye, Commodore." Barret replied, then turning to a sailor, wearing a set of sound powered phones and the dull browninsh-gray hazard suit that was uniform underway, "Con, make revolutions for Flank Speed, come left to course 048."

After repeating the order verbatim, the sailor spoke it into the mouthpiece, passing it to the helmsman inside the pilot house behind them, and both men felt the deck vibrate beneath them as the monitor began to increase speed to her maximum speed of 15kts.

Three hours later - off Pointe Aux Pins

The Relentless rapidly approached the Point Aux Pins, where the river widened and they would actually be able to see the Locks...though from the clouds of billowing, black smoke rising up from both the Canadian and US side of the river, he was not going to like what he saw. The nearest of the three other Monitors in his Division, the Retribution, and her escort of three gunboats, were only three hours away, but Hackett had decided to push ahead alone, trusting in the Monitor's thick armor, heavy guns, and well drilled crew to extricate him from any trouble.

No sooner did they reach the bend in the river, turning starboard to stay well clear of the wreck of a old Pre-War guided missile cruiser, aground and rusting away in the Shallows to Starboard, a rare victory for the Canadians before being overwhelmed by Manifest Destiny before the Great War, did the lookout cry out the alarm.

"Enemy vessels to Port!"

Barret and Hackett swiveled together to look, spotting a pair of makeshift ironclads move away from shore and rapidly accelerating in their direction. Broad-beamed, shallow draft, ungainly vessels, they were crudely built and crudely armored, with rusting steel plates, and even railroad rails attached to sloping wooden casemates. On top of the casemate, figures could be seen capering and gibbering, waving melee weapons at them. Neither man was worried, makeshift vessels such as these were exactly the sort of vessel their Monitor was built to combat.

"Looks like we've got a fight on our hands, Harry", Hackett said with a hit of anticipation to his voice, "Time to go inside, I think."

"Very good sir", Barret replied, gesturing towards to open hatch into the turret, "after you, sir!"

One after another, the sailor manning the phone, then Hackett, then Barret, clambered down into the turret, Barrett dogging the hatch securely behind him. Barret then entered the pilot house, while the Commodore went to his post, the Auxiliary Pilothouse on the aft turret as the Relentless steered to engage the enemy.

At six hundred yards, the Relentless turned slightly to enable the aft turret to bear forward, and one at a time, fired her four 8" rifles at the lead enemy vessel. the first shot was long, the second short, the third landed close enough to douse the forward end of the enemy vessel with water.....while the fourth was a solid hit on the front of the casemate. As the angle of slope on the casemate was poorly thought out, the armor was not sufficient to defeat the 8" High Explosive shell, which penetrated the armor and detonated inside the casemate, turning the gundeck into a blazing abattoir. With smoke pouring out of the shell's entry hole, and the forward gunports, the vessel, it's helmsman and bridge crew dead at their posts, careened hard to starboard, running hard aground on the river bank before it could begin going in circles.

Inside the pilot house, Captain Barrett grinned with satisfaction.

One down, one to go.

Turning deftly to starboard to avoid a attempt by the remaining ship to ram, both vessels fired their broasides into each other at less than two hundred yards. Few of the enemy shells hit, and those that did bounced harmlessly off Relentless's turrets. Relentless's shells, however, wreaked devastation on the crude vessel, and in the third volley, a shell landed under the ironclad's armor belt and found the magazine, and the vessel erupted in a massive explosion, showering debris for a hundred yards around. But before Captain Barret could celebrate, a cry came up from the lookout.

"Enemy vessel to Starboard!"

Rushing to the starboard side of the armored conning tower to look out, Barret grimaced as he saw a third of the crude ironclads steaming towards them from around the wreck of the old cruiser...where they had been waiting for their comrades to herd Relentless into range.

"Bastards!", Barret hissed, then picked up the 1MC to open up the shipwide communication circuit. "Rig for collision to starboard, stand by to repel boarders!"

On the decks of the ironclad, he could see dozens of men, equipped with ladders, waiting for the right time to deploy. Within moments, the ironclad wheeled about, running hard alongside the Monitor. Instantly, boarders leaped aboard the Monitor, hauling ropes to lash the two ships together using the monitor's own bollards, even as the ladders crashed down onto the Monitor's decks and the enemy swarmed aboard. now, for the first time, he could heard their battle cries, and the name they shouted praise to, and realized who they were.....The Cult.

For a split second, fear gripped his heart, but it passed as quick as it came. Barrett was a professional, and knew his duty...the Brotherhood hadn't entrusted him with one of their precious capital ships for nothing. Issuing orders for the anti-boarding systems to be activated, he then instructed the gunners to swivel the turrets to bear on the starboard side and load the special flechette rounds they had been provided for just this purpose. Outside, live, high pressure steam began to shoot out of special ports in the turret sides, scalding anyone unfortunate enough to be in their way. Those cultists close to the turrets began to feverishly work to drove wedges, iron bars, ect between the turret and the deck to jam it into place...all in vain as the hydraulic drive that powered the turrets powered right through their attempts. No sooner did the turrets swivel into position than all four guns fired at once, issuing clouds of high velocity steel darts directly into the boarders.....sweeping the decks of both vessels clear like a steel broom. Barrett, not to mention the turret crews, could hear the screams and cries clearly.

"Away all boarders!", Barrett said into the 1MC handset. In response, hatches both fore and aft opened, and power-armored Knights followed by armed sailors, emerged onto deck. As the Knights crossed the ladders and boarded the Cultist's ship....shots began to ring out as the sailors, gingerly navigating the decks, streaming with blood, began finishing off what few boarders had survived the hail of flechette rounds. From the enemy ship, more fighting could be heard below decks, but about ten minutes later, a Knight emerged onto the top of the casemate and tore down the banner at the mainmast of the enemy ship and hoisted the ensign of the Brotherhood in it's place....the battle was won.

The Passage - Four Hours later

"They came from the North, down the 75 in the middle of the night", Cap said bitterly, "By the time we knew what was happening, we'd already been overrun." He then added, "should have known better and run when Calypso flew in and picked up Reggie the day before...the bitch!"

"What happened to Calypso?", Hackett asked.

"Got away clean in that Vertibird she stole from the The Thunder Bay people, I reckon", Cap answered. "Took Shelby and all her cronies with her....and left the rest of us to die." He spat on the floor in anger. "Kissed that bitch's ass for years...and this was our reward." He waved around at the billowing smoke from the settlements on both sides of the river, and several of the non-essential structures at the lock.

Hackett looked at the devastation around them, and shook his head sadly as the old man ranted about Calypso's betrayal as they questioned him about what he had witnessed. slowly, Hackett coaxed the story out of him. Calypso had taken her closest cronies and fled about a day ahead of the Cult's arrival. The Cult had sacked the Settlement and killed or carried off everyone not able to flee in time. They then burned the settlement to the ground and marched south down the Interstate. All that was left were the lock crews, they had been spared solely to work the locks...from orders they had found on the Cult ironclad they had captured they had been ordered to scout out Cherry City, what Traverse City was called now. Apparently they had spotted Relentless before they had left and decided to have a go at her first. Fortunately for Cap and his co-workers, most of the garrison had tried to garner glory for themselves by bolstering the crew of the Ironclads in their attempt to ambush and capture the Relentless...the few that had remained behind were easy prey for Relentless's Knight detachment.

"Commodore", Cap finally asked, "What do you plan to do with the Locks?"

"It's not for me to say", Hackett said, "But I've already recommended to Barnaky that we occupy them forthwith."

Cap sighed with relief.

"Best news I've heard in two days", Cap replied.

Highway 3 Bridge

"That's incredible," Robert said, with a mixture of awe and surprise, "I'm glad to see the Midwestern Chapter has fared far better than we did. Whatever our differences, at least we might both be considered Brothers-in-arms, and its good to know that at least one chapter has found success."

"I appreciate that", Harkness replied, "Many Brothers and Sisters, especially in the West, don't understand that the world has changed since the days of Maxon, we can't go on like we had before. We have to either adapt or die. We chose to adapt, something many have not forgiven us for. The Western Elders ignored the suffering of the Wastelanders around them until it was too late, the result of their error was to be driven from the Order's very birthplace into exile in Oregon by the NCR. We haven't had contact with your Order for some time, but I understand Elder Lyons came to a similar conclusion as we did....it's a pity that his successor, Maxon, didn't seem to agree. I'm sure our leaders will be interested to hear...a moment please.", Harkness was interrupted by a incoming message.

"Yes, my Lord, the charges are set", Harkness said, clearly communicating with someone over the radio, "We were only waiting for Brother Murphy to deliver Brother Kyle and the others. I understand...we will be ready for them."

"We need to move", Harkness said to Kyle as he picked up the pace, "The enemy has figured out what we are up to, and there is a strong force heading here to try to stop us."

As the pair jogged towards the end of the bridge, Harkness began issuing orders for the battle to come. Once they reached the other end of the bridge, Harkness did a roll call to ensure that all squads were present, and then gave the order to hold fire, except for Delta, spread out in a skirmish line, until the supports were blown. They then took up their positions and waited...but not for long. Soon, a sizeable force of Raiders, at their head a scrawny, robed, old woman, pushed down the road and onto the bridge. Delta squad began to fire, picking off Raiders with each volley, but that seemed to only spur them to advance faster. Harkness watched, waiting grimly for the center of the column to move into the kill zone. Once the Raiders were committed irrevocably, Harkness raised the detonator and thumbed the safety off.

"Fire in the hole!", Harkness called out, then pushed the fire button. The charges below the bridge detonated and the entire structure began to collapse into the river in spectacular fashion. eliminating the bulk of the enemy force at a stroke. The Raiders behind her cowered at the blast, but the crazy old woman kept moving forward, babbling crazy talk.

"Weapons free", Harkness called out on his radio, "Light 'em up, but try not to waste that old crone!"

Now, Harkness's entire force opened fire upon the trapped and decimated enemy, who began dropping like flies in the crossfire.

"BE AWARE, SLAVES OF STEEL!" the old woman screeched as she strode forward, heedless of the carnage around her, "SERFS OF A BRAIN IN A JAR! FOR WE CAN KNOW NO FEAR! IT WHAT SLUMBERS UNDER DUNWHICH WILL AWAKE! AND IT SHALL FIND A REALM UNITED IN ITS WORSHIP! I HAVE SPOKEN THE NAME THAT BURNS!"

A laser beam stabbed into her shoulder, causing her to fall, but then she staggered to her feet and began to move forward again.

Now only a couple yards from Harkness and his command squad, she looked at them and pointed. glaring at the group. "THERE IS NO SALVATION FOR ANY OF YOU! UG-QUALTOTH WILL FEAST ON YOUR SOUL, AND CHEW ON YOUR SPIRIT..." It was then, that suddenly fear appeared on her withered face, and she stopped to scream. "S..souless Abomination..w..what is that thing...."

Stumbling backwards, she began to crawl away. Harkness looked to where she had been looking, finding it was at the very spout where Brother Kyle, who looked a bit astonished himself, stood, his laser rifle at the ready. Harkness turned his attention back to the woman and spat out an order, two solders sprung forward, one grabbing her arms so she could not detonate any suicide charge, the other roughly frisking her.

"No bomb, sir", the second solder said, then none too gently picked up the struggling woman, and carried her to the rear, still shrieking nonsense about her "god" and "souless ones".

"Search her more closely, and put a gag on her", Harkness instructed, "I don't want to listen to her bullshit all the way back to base." The fighting on this side of the river now over, he called another roll call. the squad leaders reported all troops accounted for, and one casualty, a soldier in Delta squad had been hit by a armor piercing rocket. His suit had saved him, but he was badly hurt and needed CASEVAC, which Harkness called in for. After receiving their reply, Harkness went back to the unit channel.

"Form a skirmish line along the riverbank and prepare to provide suppressive fire...", Harkness said, ".....the surprise package is en route...ETA 10 minutes."

"Surprise package?" Robert replied with unease as he gripped the laser rifle he'd be given tightly, "What sort of surprise are we talking about here?"

"Some new playmates for these people the Scribes came up with", Harkness said, "Basically, small robots optimized for underwater deployment. They want to see how well they can keep them from trying to repair the bridge or cross by boat....as well as how they adapt to their deployment. Harassment, at this stage of the development cycle....they'll help to remind the enemy that we're coming back one day and making them think about whether they really want to be here when we do."

Lancer-Sergeant Robert Kyle, HWY 3 Bridge

"THERE IS NO SALVATION FOR ANY OF YOU! UG-QUALTOTH WILL FEAST ON YOUR SOUL, AND CHEW ON YOUR SPIRIT...S..souless Abomination..w..what is that thing...."

Robert looked astonished as he saw that the crazed cultist woman was pointing directly at him, babbling some inane words about being 'soulless.' The MWBOS soldiers around him quickly apprehended and cuffed the strange woman however after ensuring that she didn't have some sort of bomb on her.

"Her eyes," Robert remarked to Harkness as he recovered from the shock of his first real encounter with a devoted member of the cult, "She had to be utterly insane. And what was she babbling about? Abominations and Ug-Qualtoth? I mean I've seen some crazy things in my time with The Brotherhood: chemed up raiders...even the President-loving zealots in The Enclave, but that...that was something else."

SRB War Room, The Institute

"Play the footage again."

"THERE IS NO SALVATION FOR ANY OF YOU! UG-QUALTOTH WILL FEAST ON YOUR SOUL, AND CHEW ON YOUR SPIRIT...S..souless Abomination..w..what is that thing...."

Director Thomas Milburn and Dr. Alana Secord stood watching the large screen inside the secure SRB War room. Agents manning terminals analysed and replayed the footage over and over again, trying to figure out what exactly had just transpired.

"Again."

"AND CHEW ON YOUR SPIRIT...S..souless Abomination..w..what is that thing...."

"Sir, she's pointing directly at the Synth. I don't know how to explain it other than..."

"Again." Thomas cut her off abruptly.

"Yes sir."

"S..souless Abomination..w..what is that thing..."

"The easy explanation is that she just got lucky. Or, more likely, she has no idea what she just pointed at and might as well have picked any member of The Brotherhood..." One of the agents offered.

"Agreed. Its a coincidence, nothing more." Another threw in their opinion.

Thomas simply folded his arms together and lowered his head in thought,

"Its possible," He said finally, "Of course we know next to nothing about these cultists, so its also possible that they've somehow found a way to identify Gen-3's from humans. In either case, the important thing will be to observe how The Brotherhood reacts to this."

"I can have a retrieval team on standby if needed sir," Alana said.

"That won't be necessary, not yet at least. Not until we know more about what just happened. In the meantime however, closely monitor the situation. Lets find out what they do with the cultist, or if they even take her accusation seriously."

"Yes sir."

"Keep me informed of any developments. I've other things to attend to for now," Thomas said as he left the war room and then walked out the secure door leading to the SRB facility. As he crossed into the concourse, he was greeted by a welcome familiar face.

"You called darlin?"

Cait stood there armed and geared up in her red and white military jumpsuit, a modified Institute pistol was strapped to her hip along with several plasma grenades.

"That I did," Thomas said with a smile. He ran his hand along her face. He remembered when he had first met her, battered and bloodied as she was fighting daily in the Combat Zone. They'd been through much together since then. He had saved her life, and she, in turn, had saved his more times that he cared to count. He would need her help once more it seemed.

"An old 'friend' of mine seems to have arrived in The Commonwealth, and he's already searching for a way to reach me. Are you up for a hunt?"

"Always," She replied with a devilish grin.

Markle, Indiana Highway 3 bridge

"Her eyes," Robert remarked to Harkness as he recovered from the shock of his first real encounter with a devoted member of the cult, "She had to be utterly insane. And what was she babbling about? Abominations and Ug-Qualtoth? I mean I've seen some crazy things in my time with The Brotherhood: chemed up raiders...even the President-loving zealots in The Enclave, but that...that was something else."

"Ug-Qualtoth", Harkness replied, saying the name with great distaste, "is what they call thier "god". According to their dogma, it's an immortal alien being of immense age...supposedly existing long before Mankind...and power. It supposedly sleeps deep underground near a place called Dunwich...from Pre-War records a sparsely populated rural community in Eastern Massachusetts. Oddly specific, given that from the best the Inquisitors have been able to tell the Cult itself originated from a backwater coastal community in Maryland. It is currently asleep, they say....supposedly because conditions aren't right for it to be active...they either seek to wake it or to have an army to place at it's disposal when it does, I'm not sure which. I've sat through the briefings...all squad leaders and above have...it's nonsense, of course, but they all believe it implicitly....and that makes them extremely dangerous."

"Heard about your run-in with the Enclave", Harkness added, "Good work ridding the world of those bastards."

From the West, the sound of rotors could be dimly heard.

"Your ride is here", Harkness said, then giving the order for flares to be lit and placed to mark the LZ for the Vertibirds., and for the troops to lay down suppression fire on enemy positions as the Vertibirds approached.

Soon, two Vertibirds, flying fast and low, flew in, and one at a time, hovered low above the river, as crewmen in side pushed objects into the water, then returning and landing, rotors still running for quick takeoff. Two figures, in black fatigues with combat armor over them, jumped off the Vertibird, making way as the Knights loaded their wounded comrade and his damaged suit into the Vertibird, and then approached Harkness and Kyle.

"Brother Harkness, I presume?" the leader, a intense looking woman, asked. Harkness nodded. "I'm Inquisitor Stahl, my orders are to take custody of your prisoners, as well as Brother Kyle and the other people rescued from town."

"Been expecting you, Inquisitor", Harkness replied coolly. While the Inquisition was necessary, he still didn't like the amount of power they were given and didn't fully trust them. "May I introduce Brother Kyle, Lancer-Sergeant of the Eastern Chapter?"

"Pleased to meet you, Brother", Stahl said, extending her hand to Kyle, "On behalf of the Midwestern Order, I welcome you to our lands." she then added, "Please come with me. You and I, and the other rescuees will take the first Vertibird. My associate will travel with the prisoners."

Stahl led Kyle to the first Veribird, where the three civilians were being helped onboard. As the pair embarked, the old woman..now hogtied..and a couple wounded and cowed Raiders in handcuffs were unceremoniously loaded onto the second Vertibird. Once loading was complete, Stahl raised a gloved fist and pounded twice on the bulkhead separating the passenger compartment from the cockpit and the engines immediately revved up and the Vertibird took the the air, and slowly began to head west.

"We'll be at the forward command base in Indianapolis in about fifteen minutes", Stahl said, "After what you've been through, I'm sure you'd like a hot meal and some sleep before we interview you...they are also sending someone from Omaha to speak to you directly..but if you have any questions, i'll answer as best I can."

Outside Markle, IN, I-69 Bridge 8:00 am

Frank stood on the single intact span, seething as he beheld the smoke curling from the rubble of the camp at the East end of the bridges, and beyond it to the smouldering hulks of all too many of thier vehicles along the highway leading back to town. They'd managed to save one span, but only just...and the price they'd paid for that victory was outrageously high. Forced to make a headlong advance down the interstate, the Brotherhood had been waiting and taken a terrible toll on their Marauders, demolishing the north span of the bridge before they could close to engage. fortunately, they had not completed wiring the south span for demolition, and they had managed to reach and disarm many of the charges already placed before they detonated them to cover their retreat. While the bridge was damaged, it was still serviceable. A Marauder was rapidly approaching from the town, deftly swerving around the smoking wrecks at full speed as if it was running an obstacle course. it roared up, screeching to a halt next to the Mutant. The armored driver side door groaned open, and Peg, now wearing clothes, at least, climbed out. The grim expression on her face said it all, but Frank had to ask anyway.

"What's the situation in town, Peg", Frank asked. "And where the fuck is Slade?"

"it's fucking bad", Peg replied bitterly, "They blew the fuel and ammo dumps, the fusion generator is completely fucked...and if that wasn't enough, they let the ferals out, too, and then painted their symbol all over the place, including the water tower. We can't even put the squares to work fixing this mess until they can round the ferals up again. As far as Slade, he went into the river when they blew the Highway 3 bridge. He made it out...and they've run about all the Rad-Away in town through him...doc says he'll probably make it, and we'll know in about twelve hours if he's gonna change or not." She then added, "Just found out about something else you aren't gonna like."

"Out with it, Peg", Frank said wearily, "it can't get much worse."

"Slade had caught one of their soldiers and was holding them in the Jail with this month's tribute", Peg said, "I'm told his Vertibird, or whatever, had broke and he had to land where a patrol managed to catch him." She added, "Both are gone, by the way."

"And why wasn't I told of this?", Frank hissed. "Did Slade think that was not important?"

"He's dumb as shit...", Peg said with a smirk, "...but he ain't stupid. He knew it was important....he just wanted all the credit with Rog'Resh for serving him up a Brotherhood prisoner for himself, that's all."

"Of course he did", Frank said disgustedly. "Go back....once the ferals are rounded up roust out the locals able to work and send thirty or so out here. We've got to start fortifying the approaches to that bridge."

OOC: Next post will be for The Legion once Tib does the lead in for them.

Lancer-Sergeant Robert Kyle

"Pleased to meet you, Brother", Stahl said, extending her hand to Kyle, "On behalf of the Midwestern Order, I welcome you to our lands." she then added, "Please come with me. You and I, and the other rescuees will take the first Vertibird. My associate will travel with the prisoners."

"Likewise ma'm," Robert replied as he returned the gesture. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of her title of 'Inquisitor' just yet, but decided that it didn't matter for the time being.

"I guess this is where we part ways," Robert gave a sharp Brotherhood salute to Harkness, "Ad Victoriam, brother." It was hard to contain just how proud he was to once more be saying that phrase with pride.

"SQUAWK!"

The sound of that annoying fat crow caused Robert to briefly glance upwards and, of course, there was that damn thing sitting atop one of the blades of the vertibird. He was about to mention something to the Inquisitor, as a joke perhaps, about the constant harassment of the birds in this town, but something inside him seemed to stop him from doing so, and he forgot the matter entirely shortly thereafter.

After a briefing time in which the vertbird was reloaded with some of the raider prisoners that had been captured, along with himself, the vertibird took off once more and they were in the air and they were well on their way. Stahl turned to him again.

"We'll be at the forward command base in Indianapolis in about fifteen minutes", Stahl said, "After what you've been through, I'm sure you'd like a hot meal and some sleep before we interview you...they are also sending someone from Omaha to speak to you directly..but if you have any questions, i'll answer as best I can."

Robert sank back in his flight seat, a bit uneasy at the notion of just what sort of interview he'd be under, but he still maintained his composure, "Brother Harkness cleared up some of my questions already," he instead replied, "And I'm sure the rest will be cleared up in good time. The only thing that I'm wondering right now, however, is how much your Order knows about the East, and what has happened there, and how much I'll be expected to fill in the blanks."

The Commonwealth - Goodneighbor, The Third Rail Bar

"Whats a guy got to do to get a decent drink around here? Charlie, you been watering down the drinks again?"

The voice of an exceptionally drunk patron of the Third Rail called out to Whitechapel Charlie, the cockney robotic barkeep of the seedy little underground pub.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're implying...but I think its best you shut yer gob or take a walk...your choice mate."

"Fuck that Charlie, get me a decent drink or I'll turn you into scrap, how does that sound?" The drunkard began reaching for a hidden gun underneath his dirty jacket coat, but stopped when he felt the cold steel of a barrel pressed to the back of his head. This was followed shortly by the icy voice of a stranger. A ghoul from the sound of it.

"I think that sounds like you've got quite the attitude on you. Best drop that before I splatter your brains all over the good brandy."

"Watch who you're threatening there pal...I'm a made guy in the Triggermen." The drunkard threatened.

"Triggermen? Ooo, is that the name of your boy scout troupe? Sounds fucking adorable if you ask me."

"Why you little..." The drunkard spun around but before he had any time to react, the stranger cracked his head good with his pistol, sending the Triggerman crashing to the floor of the pub. By this point, the commotion had caused quite a few heads to turn in the Third Rail, but after seeing that the situation had apparently been resolved, they all quickly went back to their drinks as if nothing had happened. It was just another night in Goodneighbor.

The stranger stepped over the now comatose drunkard and took his place at the bar, "Don't suppose it would be possible to get a passable scotch here..."

"Probably can manage passable..." Whitechapel Charlie replied, and he hovered over to pour him his drink, "Appreciate the help mate. Ham will be down in a jiff and throw that pile of garbage out soon. Blasted Triggermen...everthing's gone to shit since ol' Hancock got himself offed. If he was still alive, you can bet nobody would be stupid enough to pull that kind of stunt in the Third Rail.....by the way, what's your name? Can't say I've heard too many accents like yours around these parts."

"Desmond Lockheart," Desmond took a swig of the scotch and exhaled deeply, "Not the best...but not bad either. As for the accent...I'm not exactly from around here. Just passing through on business. I'm looking for someone actually."

"Looking for someone? Well maybe I can help you out," Charlie offered, "Normally I'd charge for information..but seeing as how you got me out of that tight spot back there..."

"Doubt you'd be able to help me," Desmond chuckled, "The part I need help with isn't locating him, its getting to where he's at. You see I already know where he is."

"Oh, and where's that?"

"The Institute."

Charlie was stunned to silence and so was everyone within earshot it seemed.

"Hmm. Seems to be a common occurrence wherever I go. You'd think I'd just shot a man dead.." Desmond mused, and he took another drink of his scotch.

"Not sure who you're after mate, but I think its best if you forgot about it. Certainly aren't going to get much help from anyone in The Commonwealth if you're trying to go against The Institute. Not anymore at least..."

"So I've gathered. To be honest however, I couldn't give a rats anus about fighting The Institute or freeing you knuckle-draggers from whatever tyranny you think you're under. I'm only here to complete The Great Game. My list is growing shorter every year, but I can already tell this one is going to be much harder than Calvert was to put down. Especially if that cowed journalist's information was correct."

"Well I suppose not giving a toss is better than the alternative..." Charlie sighed, "Color me curious, what is your plan exactly?"

"Simple....wait for him to find me," Desmond shrugged, "Hence my stunt here. Damned if it isn't already working too. You can all drop the act by the way, I'm not an idiot."

A tense silence filled the bar, and the patrons, all of whom were previously enjoying their drinks, conversation, and good company had fallen utterly quiet, their faces transfixed with blank stares leveled at Desmond. There was not a soul in the bar that was not looking at him now, and even those who had previously appeared to be passed out or drunk off their asses were now sitting upright and giving him the same blank look as everyone else.

"Thought so," Desmond sighed and finished off his glass. He spun around on the bar stool to face the eerie expressionless crowd.

"I'm sorry sir, but I had no choice...never could have had a choice as a matter of fact.." Charlie apologized, as he slunk away from the bar counter.

A soft clapping emanated from the back room of the Third Rail, and a red haired woman in a white and red jumpsuit stepped out,

"Well now, he told me you were good...but I didn't imagine you'd be that good. I'm impressed. what gave it away?"

"Nothing really. I didn't know for sure until your clockwork people here stopped moving. They gave themselves away. Not that it really matters though... So can I guess that your name's Cait? The Irish broad that's my quarry's new squeeze? From what I hear, you've moved up in the world. Pit fighter to Institute Merc huh? That journalist in Diamond City had quite a bit to say about you...nothing nice by the by."

"One in the same," Cait replied with an exaggerated bow, "And little Miss Pipsqueak yaps too much. She should know she's not supposed to be talkin' outside of school. That was part of the arrangement."

"Hmph. Fair enough. So he sent you to kill me then? Figured maybe I might have bitten off more than I could chew this time after I talked with the journalist. If I'd only gotten here a few years earlier...he'd still be on ice right now and it would have been a cinch to cross him off my list. Instead he's got an army at his back now. Oh well, its all part of The Game. Kill and be killed and all that bullshit."

"If it were up to me you'd have been dead the moment you stepped inside The Third Rail, but...Thomas wanted me to bring you in alive."

"So he's taking me to the one place where I could never reach him? Tsk tsk, that's not the sort of decision that makes a good player of The Great Game. He's going to end up dead sooner rather than later."

"I think you'll find an SRB cell isn't a place where you're going to be pulling any sort of stunts. But you're welcome to try."

"I suppose we'll find out. So then, how are we getting there? Have you got a Vertibird shoved down your knickers or are we going by magic carpet?"

A mischievous smile crossed Cait's face, "Not exactly..."

Desmond then experienced a rare moment of genuine shock as his eyes and ears became filled with a bright blue light and a loud crack of energy.

Sam Wilson – Free Commonwealth of Pennsylvania – Western Border

Large plumes of black smoke spread across the sky, as locomotive after locomotive arrived at the station. Men and Women offloaded the locomotives, for the most part concentrated on their task and getting some rest. They shuffled away from the trains, in formation, heading for makeshift tents and other shelters set up to house everyone. A nice respite was needed, after all this might be the last bit of rest many of them would ever have.

As they approached the camp they came upon tables, and were handed the last uniform many of them would ever wear. It was plain but efficient. It was brown, a grimy looking brown that matched the color of the land. It had been carefully matched to the surrounding environment, to help hide their appearance. If one was asking the men and women to give up their lives, the very least they could do was provide them with a fighting chance.

As they all streamed into camps, they were met by priest dressed in black, leading men and women n singing psalms and hymns. Their voices carried throughout the camp. There was a solemn feel to the camp, not one of fear. It was as if the men and women congregated in this camp, had come to accept fate. Their fate, to follow the banner to war, and destroy the heathens that had for a long time harassed the western border of their simple and plain nation.

Governor Sam arrived accompanied by her personal guard composed of Crusaders. These guard units were dressed in armor. It wasn’t powered armor; it was more reminiscent of that used by Crusaders in the age of old. A muted silver, so that it would shine much, but enough that it would stand out and a red cross adorned to the front. These were elite soldiers, willing to give life or limb for their cause, and zealous in their beliefs. However, unlike old crusaders, they were armed with assault weapons, and super powered sledge hammers. Not only do they guard the governor, they lead the common soldier into battle. They are the first to strike and the last to leave. All willing to surrender their lives for the banner of the cross, and do whatever it took.

Sam looked at the maps laid out before her. It showed the long line of fortification that had been built along the western front, guarding Pennsylvania from the cult. Aside from the occasional missionary that was permitted through, not much trouble occurred. Pennsylvania had been a peaceful commune, one that focused more on defense than offense. However, Sam knew the Cult couldn’t be trusted; they were just waiting for the right moment to strike.

The old government would’ve never approved a first strike, however, Sam and her Crusaders, made sure they wouldn’t be in the way. They were delicately removed from positions of power and replaced with their own. Future history books would call it a bloodless coup, bloodless only because no blood was spilled, but lives were taken. Now, they could carry the holy banner of the Cross westward, and retake lands that were rightfully theirs.

Sam thought back to the conference were war had broken out. It had been a failure, after all long lasting peace was the goal, but war pretty much unraveled after day 1. It hadn’t all been a failure; an alliance had been reached by the Pennsylvania and various other nations along the eastern seaboard. That had been beneficial in getting some needed supplies and materials.

She studied the map carefully; various smaller camps were set up along the long border. To provide additional protection for the border, however another camp of equal size had been set up north. The bulk of the army would launch from these two point and eventually would be joined by a third force striking from the middle, the goal was to push cult units inwards, and slaughter them. The Banner of the Cross had deemed none of the enemy combatants worthy of redemption, and only the release of death would suffice for them.

The last of the trains had arrived, and soon the strike would begin. The Revered Father had been present, he gave the officers his blessings, and they made their ways to their men. In the morning the Army of the Cross would march, following the lead of the banner. Death would come to those that oppose them.

Central Nebraska

The passenger train, pulled by a massive 4-8-4 "Northern" steam locomotive, rocketed across the plains at a steady 75 miles an hour, the two large red flags bearing the Bull of Caesar affixed to the front of the locomotive proudly flapping in the breeze. While she was rated for a maximum speed almost twice that, doing so would complicate things for the railway officials clearing the path for the Express train so it could maintain this speed all the way to it's destination. Passengers inside, if they chose to look out the windows, could see small, tidy towns and massive fields of razorgrain and other crops, tended by purpose built robots roll by. Often, they passed by other trains, waiting patiently at sidings for them to pass. Occasionally, they passed by work gangs, made up of robots and what seemed to be prisoners, dismantling abandoned Pre-War towns and cities down to their very foundations for recycling. As the train began to approach Omaha, the towns got larger, and upon reaching the outskirts of the Brotherhood Capital, the factories, both refurbished pre-war installations and new ones, underlined the growing economic strength at the Brotherhood's command.

Pulling into Omaha's main train station, a unit of power armored soldiers had formed a cordon along the platform, keeping curious civilians of all kinds, including a contingent of Barnaky Youth in their black uniforms and red scarves, that were waiting to embark on trains at a respectful distance as the occupants disembarked, to be greeted by a party of senior officials, and ushered outside where a a convoy of passenger cars, buses and trucks, waited for them. Making their way through the city, while some buses and trucks could be seen, most traffic through the rebuilt and busy city streets was either horse drawn or bicycles. Omaha, with a population slightly over 125,000, was only surpassed by Chicago in size in Brotherhood territory. The ravages of the Great War had erased long ago, the buildings they passed by were either properly repaired Pre-War structures, or stoutly built new ones, of brick or concrete. Driving south, they eventually passed out of the city, and to what was clearly a old military base, the repaired and repainted sign identifying it as Offut AFB, along with a old insignia that one with knowledge of the Old world military would recognize as the insignia of the Strategic Air Command. Behind, and towering over it, was a granite marker on which the Midwestern Brotherhood's logo, cast from bronze, was set to show who controlled the base now. Entering the base, like in Omaha itself the buildings were either old, but meticulously repaired, or entirely new structures. The runways were in use, with military aircraft, most but not all cargo aircraft, taking off or landing frequently. Security was tight, with a heavy presence of power-armored infantry and The convoy proceeded deep into the base, eventually pulling up to the entrance to a underground bunker, where the occupants, after clearing the checkpoint, were led inside.

SAC Command Bunker - Operations Room

Barnaky, or to be more precise, the robot he was controlling, looked up from the map he had been studying as the polite applause began, to see the party of Legion officials, along with their Brotherhood escorts, enter to the applause of the entire staff. The pair at his head, he immediately recognized from photographs. If he could, he would have smiled warmly as they strode up to him and the introductions were made.

"Legate Aurelius", Barnaky said warmly as he extended his hand, "Welcome to Omaha, your reputation precedes you...it's good to finally meet you!". He then added, "Please forgive the robot, I've found using this form is easier for others to, well, relate to than other methods. How was your trip?"

Legatus Aurelius of Phoenix and Vulpes Inculta - Brotherhood Territory

The interior of the steam locomotive that was transporting the Legate and Vulpes, along with a cadre of Praetorians and High ranking Centurion officers, was well furnished with the comforts that would be expected of foreign dignitaries. To men of The Legion on campaign, it was certainly a step up from the usual accommodations of a Legion military camp, but their interest was not in frivolities or sight-seeing, The Legate's single-minded ambition was to treat with Barnaky as soon as possible and establish a coordinated plan of attack.

"The iron horses of The Brotherhood are certainly impressive," Vulpes remarked to the Legate as he stared out the window of the train car at the plentiful fields of Nebraska laden with crops and the bounty of what would no doubt be a fine harvest, "Imagine what we might do if we could move Legions East to West with such haste and such ease as they do. I cannot help but marvel at the possibilities."

The Legate shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "Hmm. Perhaps...although I'd much prefer a good steed beneath me than a abomination of metal and fire."

"It can't be helped. If we're to organize the offensive, we need to link with Barnaky as soon as possible. Meeting with him directly to plan it reduces the chances of error and miscommunication. And if we're to represent Caesar's banner, it is the proper form to meet him face to face to show our commitment to this alliance."

"I do not disagree. Besides, I am eager to meet this great leader of The Midwest and see him for myself."

"As am I..." Vulpes once more stared out the window. He thought back to his short stay at the diplomatic meeting in New Vegas. Barnaky was...not what he had expected. He wasn't entirely sure there was a man of flesh there at all and not one of metal.

A few hours more journey had them pulling in to the station at Omaha, and The Legion officers disembarked on to the platform. In usual fashion, the Praetorian guards, regally adorned with crimson plumbed helms and finely crafted armor and shields, exited first and with drilled precision formed a protective ring around The Legate. They likely needn't have bothered given The Brotherhood's own security preparations, but it was their duty to protect the household and person of Caesar. As The Legate was representing Caesar in absentia, they would show Aurelius the same unwavering devotion they would give to him.

Following Aurelius, came the Senior Centurions and finally a contubernium of Veteran Legionaries, whose vexallarius proudly held aloft the golden bull standard of Legio I Arizona. Vulpes, while present, had disembarked with the Praetorians, and was garbed as one of them: not wishing to draw attention to himself.

Aurelius stared out into the curious crowd, intrigued by the sights and sounds of the Midwestern throng. He nodded approvingly at the young soldiers to-be in black and at the power-armored soldiers that ensured the citizens kept a safe distance back. Feeling the need to say something, The Legate stepped forward and addressed the crowd,

"People of The Midwest. I am Legatus Aurelius of Phoenix, Commander of the Eastern Legions. Caesar has ordered me to help you drive the hated Cult from your lands and ensure they are sent screaming back into Tatarus. Know that I do not come alone, and that twenty-five thousand Son of Mars march behind me!"

With the crowds elated cheers, Aurlius could hear Vulpes's voice coming from one of the Praetorians ahead of him, his voice slightly muffled by the covered helmet he wore,

"I did not know you were in the custom of giving speeches Legatus. A fine one. I daresay even Queastor Titus would be envious of your words."

"Hm. I felt it appropriate. Now we shouldn't tarry. Praetorians! Move out!" He shouted the command loud enough for all to hear.

After a short time, the Legate's retinue was taken to a convoy of waiting vehicles, and they passed through the impressive city of Omaha. Unexpectedly however, their journey took them away from this center of population and out into the country. Soon they had arrived at what appeared to be an old pre-war military base, and The Legate and Vulpes both assumed that this must be the fabled "Vault 0" or at least had some connection to it. As could be expected, the base was heavily fortified and run like a well oiled machine. They expected nothing else from The Brotherhood in that regard.

Once inside, Vulpes removed his helm and fell in behind his Legate in his official role now as Primus Frumentarius, the need for disguise had passed. Both and he and Aurelius both were led into what their Brotherhood escorts referred to as the "Operations Room" and saw the robotic construct that was Barnaky, or perhaps controlled by him, waiting along with the applause of his own staff to greet them.

"Legate Aurelius", Barnaky said warmly as he extended his hand, "Welcome to Omaha, your reputation precedes you...it's good to finally meet you!". He then added, "Please forgive the robot, I've found using this form is easier for others to, well, relate to than other methods. How was your trip?"

"Comfortable and expedient, thanks to you my Lord," Aurlius replied as he accepted the robot's offer of a customary handshake with some hesitation. He wasn't sure what to make of Barnaky's stand-in just yet, but was equally surprised by the Lord of The Midwest's informal tone. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but a royal audience and elaborate ceremony had been tossed around in his head. He rather preferred it this way however, no need for pomp and circumstance between warriors.

"I would introduce to you as well, Primus Frumentarius Vulpes Inculta, leader of The Legion's Frumentarii." He continued.

"An honor to meet you once again my Lord," Vulpes said with a bow, "Our brief time in Vegas was unexpectedly short. I'm afraid the treachery of the NCR dogs made certain of that."

Desmond Lockheart and The Director, Sanctuary Hills(?)

Desmond awoke to feeling of a warm sun on his face and the sounds of cheerful birds chirping. He could hear a lawnmower in the distance, and along with it came the familiar smell of freshly cut grass. His confusion was only amplified as his eyes adjusted and he saw well trimmed green lawns, white picket fences, and tidy homes lining a freshly paved street.

He realized then that he was sitting in a lawn chair up against a patio table in the middle of one of the many lush green backyards. Reclining across from him was a man dressed in plaid shorts, loafers, a short sleeve collared shirt, and sunglasses which screamed suburban life. For a brief moment, Desmond assumed he was in a dream until he looked down and saw his necrotic hands. He was never a ghoul in his dreams.

“Hello Desmond,” The man said as he turned to him, “Enjoying the weather?”

The voice was instantly familiar to him and his memory of the previous events in the Third Rail came flooding back swiftly,

“Thomas. Well I suppose I should be surprised. Where are we exactly? I can guess I’ve been shanghai'd to The Institute, but this...well. Is it a simulation?”

At that moment, a Mister Handy floated up to the pair carrying a metal tray with two drinks,

“Lemonade’s here sir!” The robot proudly exclaimed, “Made it myself and quality-assured by the missus haha!”

“Thank you Codsworth,” Thomas smiled as he took one of the drinks. Codsworth offered the other to Desmond, and the old ghoul hesitated, but finally clasped the cold drink in his hands. He waited for Thomas to take the first sip, and then slowly raised the glass to his own rotting lips. He was surprised to find how delicious it tasted and he couldn’t help but widen his eyes in surprise.

“It's not a simulation, not a virtual one in any case,” Thomas finally replied, “Everything here is real, down to the last blade of grass. The sun is artificial of course and there’s some illusion at work when it comes to the backdrop, but aside from that its an exact copy of my home. Sanctuary Hills.”

“And the people, they’re..”

“Synths yes. Exact copies of each of my former friends and neighbors. They’re memories and neurological makeup taken directly from the bodies of those in Vault 111. The cryogenic stasis they were placed it kept their corpses thankfully very fresh, which is the only thing that made this possible. Their programming has been altered slightly of course so that they’re stuck in the same loops over and over again, to ensure they don’t break the illusion here.”

Desmond looked around the neighborhood and observed each of them going about their business. It was hard to imagine at first glance that they weren’t real. As he panned around, he could see into the window of the home they were in the backyard of, and spied a woman with dark hair. Next to her, he could see the top of a young boy’s head.

“You even copied your wife and child…” Desmond couldn’t help but let out a subdued gasp.

Thomas fell silent for a few moments.

“Yes, I did. Although the child wasn’t my doing really. My son, my real son, created him for me as his way of...making amends for the lost time. He asked me to look after the child before he passed. So I decided to create this place as a way to do that. It allows me, if even briefly, to recapture everything I lost. I love it and hate it in equal measure. Everytime I return here, I swear that it’s the last.”

“How tragic,” Desmond replied matter-of-factly as he leaned back in his chair, “So can I ask what the fuck I’m doing here? You didn’t kill me, so I assume you want something from me.”

“I could say the same. You’re not an easy man to get to Desmond. If you wanted to evade capture, you could have. You walked into the Third Rail knowing that Goodneighbor had long ago stopped being free. Everyone there is a Synth. The illusion of resistance against The Institute is kept up there only for appearances, and to lure in those who still want to fight. Remnants of The Railroad...The Brotherhood...The Minutemen and so on. You wanted to be captured so I assume you’re looking to get something out of an arrangement as well. The Great Game boring you now?”

“Maybe,” Desmond nodded as he took another sip of the lemonade, “Maybe I’m tired of doing this over and over again. Maybe I thought I might finally be able to work with one of my rivals instead of kill them.”

Thomas smiled, “I could use your help Desmond. Back in the day you were the best intelligence agent The British had to offer. Got the DIA out of many a tight jam and served your country, and ours, with distinction. The Institute is just coming into its own on the stage and we’ve already discovered that its much larger and more complicated than we anticipated. Nations have formed that are far more powerful than ourselves. We need information before we can figure out what to do about that.”

“So you need me to lead up your intelligence agency hmm? Can’t say I disagree...it’s the smart choice. Those egg-heads of yours might be smart, but they’re amateurs compared to what we had,” Desmond leaned back smugly in his chair, “But I don’t really see what's in it for me. The country I served is long since blown to hell and I’m not feeling all that loyal to an armed university.”

“I figured you might say that...so what if I told you I could get you something you’ve wanted for a long time. What if I could cure your ‘condition’?”

“Not sure why I’d want to do that,” Desmond shrugged, “Ghouldom isn’t a fucking walk in the park, but it has its perks. Immortality for one. Immunity to radiation for another. Kinda comes in handy this day and age you know?”

“Assume I can offer that along with the promise of a cure.”

Desmond narrowed his eyes, “Keep talking Thomas..”

“It's why I brought you here,” Thomas motioned his hand around, “Why I demonstrated this to you.”

“Synths. So that’s your plan. Build me a new body I supposed, hmm? Alright, I’ll bite. And what exactly is stopping you from controlling me like a puppet once I agree to that?”

“If I wanted that, I could just kill you, scan you, and build a copy and program it to follow my orders to the letter. Let's be frank here Desmond. That’s not what I’m after. I need your mind and I need it whole and unspoiled. A Synth can do many things...many, many things. But despite the appearances, its not wholly up to the task of matching the human mind. It's the one advantage we have over them. There are flaws and limitations that are only perceptible to those that have intimate knowledge of their workings. I’m going through all this trouble for a reason, not because I find it fun. I’m offering this to you in exchange for your help because I know it's the one thing you’ve been unable to get. I know why you’re always wearing that fake wig and mustache. Its because your longing for the old days is almost as great as mine. What I’m offering you is the same thing I’ve found here in this place….a small piece of that.”

Desmond sat back and let out a throaty chuckle, “Figured I might have made the right choice….alright you’ve got a deal. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. Just like the old days then. So, what exactly do you need my help with?”

“There’s a group I’m very interested in learning more about. Perhaps even working with if the circumstances permit it. But from what I’ve heard we need to be very precise...and very careful with how we go about it. I think you’ve run into them before as well….in Maryland.”

“Oh?”

“A group called: The Cult.”

---

---

Marie was sitting in he middle of her room, as the radio was giving away the music, that filled out the silence. With her eyes closed, she could feel the presence of the monolith outside the building she was in, glorious and radiant, the mass of pilgrims walking by it like a unruly sea of bodies, washing along it, taking in inearthly antediluvian glory. Yet they where blind, for they could not see it like she or the Prophet did. For them, the monolith was little more then a door, locked and barred, yet with an terrible and beautiful light behind it. The seals that locked it would be broken when he who slumbered would finally awake, and all that was, would be undone, and all that would be, would be returned to how it was below. This world would be washed away in the birth-cry of Ug-Qualtoth, he who slumbered in the mantel of this world, he who one day would bring in the end of all.
Their worship for this magnificent horror was all but insane, for how could such a being not be seen as a god? How could one not accept the supremacy of this eldritch being, who´s mere hint of its slumber had been enough to drive men mad? Turning them into his most beloved children, the ghouls...



The world around her turned to water, as she was laying among the rubble of a burning ship. Drowning men, some burned by hot steam were trying to keep afloat, as she looked at a passing Juggernaut of iron, the accused symbol of the brotherhood painted onto it. Another ship of the cult had perished in the cold irradiated water of Lake Michigan. "Ug...ug-qualtoth...s..save me...please...i...sacrifced..my...my comrades..." The iron armor of the cult-warrior was dragging him down, as he paddled like an infant dog, his face horrible burned by the hot steam the brotherhood had used to repel the boarders. Then a shot rang through the night, as the cultist paddling stopped, and he slowly sank beneath the waves. "AD VICTORIUM YOU SON OF A BITCH! THE BROTHERHOOD RULES THESE WATERS!" Turning her head, Marie looked at the sailor, holding a shotgun in his hand, before he turned pale. "What the...THERE IS A CHILD IN THE WATER! THEY HAD A CHILD IN THAT SHIP! YOU DAMN BASTARDS!" The sailor was looking around, screaming loudly, as he reached for a lifebelt, yet a moment later, a second sailor came in. "Ensign, what the reason for this commotion!" The young man, armed with the shotgun wildly pointed at Marie, who still was laying still in the water, glaring back at him. "A fucking child sir! These damn bastards put children on their ship! God..please, let us rescue her! For the love of god..." The other sailor, glared into the waves, before shaking his head. "Ensign, there is no child...



The hot fire of the battle was raging around her, as Marie looked at the street below, high above from a building. She was not sure what it once had been, a church maybe? Even from so far away, she could make out the thuggish laughter of Dosh-Novan, hacking through the terrified soldiers of Detroit. "I AM WAR! I AM DEATH! I AM THE FUCKING DESTROYER OF CITIES! UGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH...." His Super Sledge crushed a man trying to raise his rifle to deflect his attack, as the power-armored Warleader climbed over the barricade, roaring more like an animal then a man, as his heavy armor deflected the bullets fired at him in blind panic by the defenders. Multiple freshly taken heads were hanging from a chain around his chest, swinging in his movement, as the nightmarish man of steel roared once more, at the soldiers who looked more like cattle then defenders."THERE YOU ARE! COME AND BLEED FOR ME YOU BASTARDS!" Then the slaughter began, as more and more warriors fell upon the soldiers, hacking and firing blindly in a Miasma filled orgy of violence, Dosh-Novans voice roaring even above the screams of agony. Marie looked away in disgust. How much hated this man. "BURN TOLEDO TO THE GROUND! THEN WE MARCH TO DETROIT!" Her hands formed fists, as she closed her eyes. "Cant you show me something nice for a change?"



Marie was sitting the bright sun, her hair neatly braided, a she leaned against a wall, holding onto her books, as the handsome boy, in a collage jacket was holding his arm above her shoulder. "So, what you saying Catherine? We have a date or what?" A car radio was playing in the background, as Marie closed her eyes. "What is going on! What is this place?" The boy looked confused, as he took a step back. "Righto, you alright Catherine? Stayed a bit to long in the sun? Wanna hang with a milkshake?" Marie closed her eyes, as she pushed the boy away. "Eyyy...what wrong with you, baby! I thought we were thight! No need to shoot me down like that.." Marie walked passed him, yet he held onto her arm.
"Come on, girl, what wrong with you? Something i said i..." Marie removed his hand with a quick tearing, as she glared at him. "You are dead! You died screaming but nobody could hear you! The pain of coldness filled you, as you longed for the breath that never left your lips... so did Catherine, who never could stand you! For her you were just a means to get back at the man she foolishly adored...now step out of my way, for i am the heir of the prophet.." Leaving the boy behind, she dropped her books, as she walked faster, away from the Red-Rocket, over a wooden bridge, past a sign..."Sanctuary Hills". A roaring engine, came past her, as a car drove next to her up, the street, leaving her even more confused.

"Where am i? What is this place? Why did you brought me here? Was...was this what it looked like before the war?"

Turning her head, she looked into the blue water below, seeing her reflection. She had brown hair, wore a blue dress and her face was so different. Stumbling backwards, Marie´s turned around, to look at the people, blissfully ignorant and daring to enjoying themselves. Then, she realized it. Her shivering hand moved up to her face, as she glared at the hand, before a whimper left her lips. She was not real, but she was! The metal compartment in her head burned, as she felt every single part of it roaring inside her body. Her mind was overtaken with the desire to tear it out, to end this horrible existence. Her nails broke the flesh of her neck, as she felt hot blood running over her neck and fingers, blood that was not real, but was. Never in her life, had she felt so disgusted and scared...Then she looked up, and far in the distance, she could see two men talking, a human and a ghouls. Burning bright, like a fire in the night, she felt the need to run to them, beg them to end this nightmare, as she just stared with her bleeding neck...



Marie screamed, as she opened her eyes holding onto her neck, as her whole body shivered. "WHY! WHY YOU NEEDED TO SHOW ME THAT! WHY!" The door was slammed open, as two warrior entered, weapons in hand. "Heir of the prophet! What is wrong..." A roar left her lips, as she raised both her hands and the two men, fall over, like marionettes, whos strings had been cut. Gasping for air, their armor began to bend inside, yet Marie came back to it, reaching for her legs and burying her face in them....then she began to sob.



Synth U4-88, Sanctuary Hills(?)

"But Dave, you know that my parents would kill me if i sneak out one more time! I can be lucky that Mrs. Nora didnt rat me out last ti...Dave?" The synth looked around, as she stood in the middle of the street, before holding onto her bleeding neck. For just a moment, Synth U4-88 Catherine broke her programming....

Then she was hit by the car, as Mr. Able never looked into his mirror when he drove out of his parking spot! Even this detail, did the programming of the Institute got right!

SAC HQ Bunker- Operations Room

"Comfortable and expedient, thanks to you my Lord," Aurlius replied as he accepted the robot's offer of a customary handshake with some hesitation.

"Glad to hear it", Barnaky replied. "Rebuilding the rail net was one of the best investments we've made...the economic and strategic benefits that flow from it far outweigh the cost, as high as that was."

"I would introduce to you as well", Aurelius continued, "Primus Frumentarius Vulpes Inculta, leader of The Legion's Frumentarii."

"An honor to meet you once again my Lord," Vulpes said with a bow, "Our brief time in Vegas was unexpectedly short. I'm afraid the treachery of the NCR dogs made certain of that."

"Likewise, Primus Frumentarius", Barnaky replied, "both Brother Joseph and I regret that the conference failed before we could meet with you and your Lord. The Californians are indeed a foolish people...they have all the vices of the Old United States, yet few of it's virtues. Hopefully, Lucius Caesar sending their President home in a box will finally make them see the error of their ways."

"Thanks to the valor of your Legions", Barnaky continued, "I don't see them plaguing us with their stupidity and greed for the next few years at least....which is convenient as we have work to do."

Barnaky then picked up a remote from the map table and pushed a button, and the world map on the large screen on the far wall changed to a map of what was the Eastern United States, with the declared borders of the Brotherhood, Cult, the Detroit Republic, and smaller powers were marked.

"I'll give you a brief rundown of the situation", Barnaky began, "and answer any questions you have. I've also arranged for your Command staff to be fully briefed."

"We are advancing on three fronts", Barnaky continued, "The Southern force is moving on Louisville, Kentucky, along I-64 and the Ohio River. So far, they have met little resistance...mostly Raiders and petty local despots. The Central force, proceeding down I-70 and I-74, has reached Indianapolis and placed it under siege. Two days ago, the Airport was secured and the Paladin-General is moving his Headquarters there to be closer to the front. The Northern force is advancing East along I-90, with the objective of reaching the I-69 interchange. Then forces from all three fronts would cut off Fort Wayne, the main Cult stronghold in Indiana, and destroy the forces there. All the while diplomatic efforts would be made to secure the cooperation of the Detroit Republic for an advance to Columbus, from which we can directly threaten the Cult's heartland. But a complication has come up which may require a re-evaluation of the plan."

"The enemy, of course, has responded with moves of their own", Barnaky said. "They have launched a full scale Invasion of the Detroit Republic, and are doing better than we would like. Their initial objectives appear to be Toledo and Columbus. Columbus was expected, for the reasons I gave before, but some of their moves in the north were surprising."

"A large force entered Michigan, coming South from Canada along I-75. They seized the Soo Locks...which would have cut off maritime traffic between Lakes Superior and Huron...but thankfully did not seem to recognize it's strategic importance as it was not damaged and only lightly garrisoned. They are awfully determined to get into Lake Michigan...no matter how many of their ships my sailors sink they keep coming." Barnaky shrugged, a odd expression for a robot to make, "So be it. If they want to die, we'll gladly oblige them. Analysis of captured communications and interrogating the occasional prisoner generally back up the Cult radio broadcasts that one of their objectives is Chicago...a goal that we see as unrealistic, to say the least, given the depth of Chicago's defenses. We've taken steps to guard against that, nevertheless, as they may have a unconventional strategy in mind...similar to your rather effective way of removing Searchlight from the strategic chessboard at a stroke in the Mojave War, Vulpes."

"Another force is currently contending for Toledo", Barnaky continued, "This move we expected. We believe the Cult intends to take Detroit...this would effectively bring down the Republic and add the bulk of it's industrial base to theirs. Unfortunately, the Republic was not prepared for war, which mystifies me, and is losing on all fronts. We see no choice but to intervene. Detroit must be held at all costs, but there is another opportunity here....the possibility of bottling up two of their Field Armies inside Michigan where we can force them to battle on our terms and annihilate them. At the same time, we must continue the advance on Columbus to keep the pressure on, prop up the Republic...and open the path to Pittsburgh so we can strangle this Cult in it's cradle."

"Given the size of the Legion's contribution to the war effort", Barnaky said in conclusion, "It is only appropriate the Legion's role reflect that contribution. To that effect, Legate, I would like to offer you command of one of the Fronts...either our efforts in Michigan, or the Drive on the East, towards Columbus. We will, of course, attach to your command appropriate specialist and support units, who will report to you. While this is without precedent in Brotherhood history, blind obedience to the Codex invariably led to the undoing of every other chapter but mine....so while I respect precedent when I can, I'm not afraid to replace them with new ones when Duty requires it."

"That's the situation in a nutshell", Barnaky said, "If you have questions I'd be pleased to answer them."