The Peoples Liberation Front
"People of the Capital Wasteland. My name is Eric Jones, but many of you may know me as "Chairman Jones". This is my hour, the hour i take, to speak to you, and spread my inspiring instruction into your lives, hoping that i can convince you, to see things my way, the way of the people."
I am here to ask you a single question today, to all mothers and fathers of the capital wastelands. What are your little ones doing right now? Sleeping in your arms, playing in front of a fire or are they eating, the scraps you could wrestle away from this harsh and brutal land? Now look at them, and tell me, are you seeing a future for them?"
The Peoples Congress, Wagon 4 "Chamber of the People" / Somewhere between Hagersruin and the capital wasteland
The chairman pressed down the beetle, that had annoyed him for almost half an hour now, as he looked down the table, at the four other figures, while the familiar sound of the tracks below was breaking the silence, left behind by his order. Dunwitch was sitting to his right, still smoking, the bald head of the general secretary glittering with sweat, even in the cold of the train compartment. He silently stared with the chairman at the slim figure of the speaker of the united workers and farmers union, a thin man named Johnas Pincher, who looked like a stick tugged into a coat. Next to him sat the general, Evertt, his stripy van dyke beard grey, as he tugged his uniform coat tighter. "Scrappers keep pushing from the north, but our boys can hold them off. Chances are, that they wont start another move for the Pitt, until the winters over and with spring, we can make another collection call, drafting new meat up and sending them straight to the frontline." Like always Dunwitch said nothing, just calmly making notes. "Other raider activity? Mutants? Ghouls?" Jones looked over the table, until he found the pack, taking out another cigar. "Raiders aint gonna try anything funny again, after what we did in Morgantown this summer. No, Boss, there are no major threats, outside of the Scrappers in the north, so from my side, yeah, we can start our push into D.C."
Nodding to Everett, Jones turned to Pincher, who coughed into his hand, before smearing the content onto the cloth of the table. Noticing, the eyes of the chairman on him, he blushed in the deepest red, before quickly trying to cover the stain. "Well, as you may have already witness, chairman, our havest last year has been potentially able, under certain conditions to maintain a potential offensive of a limited period of time, if we are..." The cold glare of Dunwitch brought him out of his concept, as he stopped in the middle of his sentence. "Yes or no, Speaker. Take all the time you need." Jones could hear the man swallow, before he nodded. "Yes, we can economically support an intervention in the capital wasteland."
Clapping his hands, Jones rose from his chair, walking through the wagon with a content smile on his lips, before lighting his cigar. "Gentleman, today will go down in history. Today, the PLF will finally push to reconquer the capital of the old world, to use it to rebuild a new one!" Turning around, he raised his hand with the cigar in it, the smoke forming a straight line behind him. "For the people and the revolution..."
"...AND THE CHAIRMAN!""There is not a child in the captial wasteland that has anything remotely that could look like a future. Do not lie to yourself. What prospects do your son and daughter have? Farming, to be raided, raped and killed by the marauding scum of the earth? Peddling jet and other poision, to fall victim to their own needle? To sell themselves in the flesh bazzars of Rivet City, to earn enough for another day, only to waste away? ENOUGH OF THIS!
Under the red banner of the Peoples Liberation Front, we do not talk about a future, WE.CREATE.IT! All able bodied men, are called to rally neart the SatCom Array. Three meals a day await you and the chance to one day tell your children, that you build their bloody future!
This is chairman Jones, signing off..."
SatCom Array NN-03d / The Capital Wasteland
The night was bitter cold, as they huddled together in blankets around the fire barrels inside the three towers. Most soldier feared the sound of the door opening, meaning that another watch would be called, out into the infernal cold. The reeking smell of unwashed bodies, powder and wet cloth was almost unbearable, yet at least, inside it was somewhat warm. But all O-dog could feel, was the heat and the fires of the Pitt, as he looked down on the huddled dirty mass, that were the glorious army of the revolution. At least that was what they called themselves, yet for him, they were just meat. Just like he was. Meat to be spend and used, bled and stewed.
O-Dog had been in man strange places in his life, tossed around like a bottle inside the patomac, yet this had to be the strangest gig of them all. Yet, the chairman had already calculated his next move against Wernher, for which he would need more then just the scraps of slave-meat he had. No, he needed badass, fullmetal raider rapid killermachines like O-dog. And O-Dog was happy to be just that, if it would mean he would spared to be torn apart by the slaves eager for raider and slaver blood.
It all seemed to incredible long ago, as he pulled up his gloves, put on his ushanka and closed his pattered coat. Walking towards the door, a groaning voice came from his side. "Coperal, where you think you going?" O-Dog did not turned, before grunting out bored. "Hunting for meat. Will be back soon."
With that, he left the tower.
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