ENCLAVE VAULT
"Every time. Every goddamn time."
"What's that, sir?"
We now take you to the bowels of the Earth, a long way down from the surface which Fort Knox sits upon, where two Enclave soldiers stand, one a normal Tesla Soldier, and the other an especially-advanced looking one with highlights of a lighter blue on his armor. The Fallout Sector member had...kind of an accent, like maybe he came out of San Francisco with its Asian population, but he went by the name of Greg MacRider, and he was...a technological genius. Even still, this one had him puzzled...and maybe a little concerned.
"Every time we boot up the central brain of the Vault for active duty, it basically starts shouting at us with this speech. It looks like just a start-up message, like some cheap prank, but I've combed through millions of lines of programming and attempted to patch it out, and it will just not go. So, I'm thinking the computer is psychotic."
"How bad? Like...should we be worried?"
"No, we have control. It can't do what it wants. But it...doesn't like it, and it doesn't like it a whole lot."
"Okay, next question: What're we gonna do about it? 'Cause I know that Number One isn't gonna like it."
"Well, apart from therapy, I don't know if we CAN do anything about it. I'll let Jack know about this, and he can pass it on up the line."
It was about then that a soldier monitering frequencies and transmissions found something new. He began recording, and then when it hit a certain point, he announced to the other two nearby "I found something else that he's not gonna like. Sending the feed directly to his chambers now.". It needed to be immediately addressed, as their commander's standing orders that all new developments should be relayed to him as soon as possible, so...off went the televised signal from Canada straight to the man himself.
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The room was dark, save for the many flickering images upon the screens. Some were television screens, others holographic displays. The entire room appeared to be screens and technical equipment. This was the control chamber of Number One. It was a cold and forboding sort of room, where a hundred things were being displayed at once, and he caught them all from his chair in the middle. The chair was a large metallic unit with various buttons and electronic ports for his suit to connect to. He sat in it often, taking sessions of hours or even days, broken up only be one's own personal needs. Yes, he was a living being, which is why there was a hatchway elevator to his quarters beneath this room.
Number One sat in the center of all this, clad in a large powersuit of black and highlights of red, the eyes of the suit themselves red. He was the tallest one of all, even taller than Bob Malcontente', and broader of shoulder too. He looked more solid than Scott's heavily-armored suit, which was extra-armored so that people and explosions couldn't interrupt his work. And yet, he held that well-roundedness that Jack enjoyed in his suit. Powersuits were incredible machines. A little tweek here and there, and they could do almost anything. Still, this one was sitting passively, for now. That is...until the television signal from Canada popped in on the main viewer. He heard the main part from Canada, and then rewatched the full recording for good measure. And that was when Jack popped in through the heavily-armored door that was the entrance to this room.
"Ah, good. You have seen it. I was warned by Greg. Looks like someone wants to make a move against us."
"The move into the light was always going to bring exposure. It was only a matter of time."
"Didn't expect a television signal. Most televisions out there are scrap. Still, what do you wanna do about them?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
The head of the taller armor turned to look at Jack now.
"Nothing, because - as of now - nothing has OCCURRED. These are words. They are meant to provoke a reaction. Let the fools of Canada send their mercenaries to Enclave-friendly territory. SEE what they get. And if they attack...they will die."
Jack paused to think about this, but then in doing so, he pointed to the speakers in the room, the ones lining the walls near the ceiling.
"Do you have to keep that playing?"
The music suddenly stopped, leaving the chamber in relative silence.
"No."
"That's better. Now then, basically you're saying we don't have to do anything because they're just gonna send people off to get stonewalled and shot at."
"Precisely."
"Alright, then we'll move on. We've been having the folks at Louisville talk to the Indiana Homes. There isn't much friction between them, so it's gotten a bit smoother. Indy still doesn't like us, of course. He's this explorer/historian type. Lives in a museum and curates it.
"I have been giving that some thought. There are some articles in our possession, things which have no intrinsic value to our effort, but were potential bartering tools. He lives in a museum. We will offer him things that BELONG in a museum, and an historical account of what I have done to PURGE the old Enclave. He will learn that the old government is dead, and that New American States shall be born."
"Oh, you've been working on your pitch for when the Republic gets wind of us."
"They are far and away, and hardly a concern...but yes. The tales that I've heard of the handful of soldiers at the Hoover Dam has made it easier for me. When the NCR finally makes their push East, we will be ready for them, because they will be forced to concede that the Enclave does not have to be their enemy, and will not simply open fire."
"That will still take a number of years, so we'd better get onto matters on this end."
"Indeed."
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Up on the surface, certain articles in Enclave footlockers were being loaded into the back of a waiting Vertibird, while others were heading out of armored hatches in the ground that opened up to allow them to the surface. One was obviously going North, to Indiana Homes, while the other two...were loaded up with some kind of heavy capturing gear involving high-test cord-lines, heavy nets, grappling devices, stun units, and also gas. They were bound for other locations, Daniel Boone National Park and the Mammoth Cave. They were on for the hunt. Suddenly, from a spot from the surface, the man in the black-and-orange armor looked up at the one turning for the cave area shouted "Wait for me!", and activated a jetpack to reach them. Bob was going hunting, having basically trounced all the recruits and left them all clean-up detail. Once he came on board the Vertibird...
"So, what's on the list for today?"
"Deathclaws, sir."
"Oh boy! Jack will be so pleased!"
"Will he really, sir?"
"Not a bit. Ever since Texas, whoa boy... Now, let's get a move on! Those labs ain't gonna fill themselves!"
We have fun here, at Enclave HQ.