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The United Kingdom of Britain, Ireland, and Canada




“I have, myself, full confidence that if all do their duty, if nothing is neglected, and if the best arrangements are made, as they are being made, we shall prove ourselves once again able to defend our Island home, to ride out the storm of war, and to outlive the menace of tyranny, if necessary for years, if necessary alone. At any rate, that is what we are going to try to do. That is the resolve of His Majesty’s Government-every man of them. That is the will of Parliament and the nation. The British Empire and the Germanic Republic, linked together in their cause and in their need, will defend to the death their native soil, aiding each other like good comrades to the utmost of their strength. Even though large tracts of Europe and many old and famous States have fallen or may fall into the grip of the Communists and all the odious apparatus of Soviet rule, we shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender, and even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this Island or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our Empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the British Fleet, would carry on the struggle, until, in God’s good time, the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the aid of the old.”- Winston Churchill in response to the first battles of World War 2, 1942


How we survived: Stubborn English fighting spirit, as well as tactical withdrawal into the backcountry. We will never surrender against the tide of darkness.








James Gregor Castner

As soon as he fired his .44 bullets into the creature, it felt like they had been shot back at him. The impact of its projectile threw him on the ground. And for a moment, he was dazed and blinded. He heard sickening smacks, his ticking geiger counter, a clattering spear, shotgun blasts, and the loud powerful bangs of a beast killing rifle. Unfortunately, the last sound he heard before wiping his face was the Angler bounding away.

Radioactive shit...
He tried to scrape the swampy muck off of him, but it was stuck. His geiger counter kept going off, but it lessened as he scraped more and more off. He thought about removing his armored vest, but decided it was better to catch a few rads than catch a few bullet holes. As he got up, he felt a spike of pain in his chest. Feeling carefully, his ribs had not been broken, but most likely bruised.

“Hey can someone help me up?”, the Enclaver called from the ground. Remembering how badly James had been clawed in the fight, he went over and helped the bloodied man up. The wound was one of the deeper ones he’d seen. As he helped him, he reflexively murmered to the Enclaver like he was an injured Paladin: “You’ll be alright. Only a flesh wound.”, and immediately stopped, remembering he was helping an old, basically unrepentant, enemy turned friend.

Sitting down on a rock, the Enclaver preceded to get out some aged Enclave bandages.

“Probably gonna need surgery on this...” James grunted his arm stinging as he continued wrapping the bandage “How far is it to the crash site?”

He had been listening to the device just before the fight began. Felt like an anchor in an otherwise hellish world. “Not far. Only a few hundred yards.”, he said while looking off towards Steve and Corrine. They seemed to make it out alright, but he’d make sure in a sec. He refocused on James’s wound. “You fit to continue? How does the arm feel?”

He turned towards Steve and Corrine before the Enclaver could respond. “Are you two fine? I heard someone getting hit.”

“Will be alot easier, even crippled to get back to town with the power armour especially if we run into any more fish whatever the fuck face monster thing that was… Are they usually that big?"

“No knowledge on them, see what Corrine thinks”, he replied starkly.

Once he made sure everyone was fine, he silently re-equipped his laser rifle and started to take a few steps down the road. The fight had put him into war zone mentality, he realized. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes for a moment. “I’ll take point again. I didn’t take too hard of a hit.”, he turned around. “The vertibird is close. We should try to sneak the rest of the way to avoid anymore encounters. Plus there’s probably some creatures near the wreck attracted by the explosion and fire. We could get the drop on them.”, some life returned to his voice as the plan was formulated.
James Gregor Castner

They easily passed through the crumbling pre-war edifices. They were oddly unnerving. He’d confidently made his way through the streets of D.C. for years in this same sickly twilight. But this was something different. Downtown D.C. had been all scorched earth, a dead land. Here he could sense there was sinister life behind every stone, with only malicious intent towards the invaders who trekked through their eldritch world.

Though the fog was thick, he could see they were approaching a shallow body of water engineered to be a water source. Fog condensers around the reservoir were rusted and dead, but there was a source of soft orange light coming from some weeds…

The earth shook, suddenly and violently, as a deformed monster burst from the pond. Before he could fire Shark, the monster roared an ear splitting challenge and launched radioactive spit directly at him. He remembered a behemoth’s tossed concrete block as he threw himself to the side, dodging the attack.

He quickly got up as another roar punctured the air. The monster savaged the Enclaver, and was preparing to pounce again. Even though they had once been enemies in a war for the wasteland itself, he instinctively drew Bear from it’s holster to defend his new comrade and fired three .44 shots at the creature...

Governor of New Houston and President of the Confederation Harris

Hours after the Sphere agreements, the whole Texan retinue made its way to the newest meeting. They were rested and looking their sharpest, with fresh grey suits and grey Texan Rangers behind them. In the early morning sun, they looked silvery. They entered the meeting room with no flourishes or announcements as Harris desired. This would be a day for real progress not artful displays.

Not many factions were present. It seemed the chaos caused by the NCR had driven away diplomacy, or at least confused them beyond their means. The whole hall seemed hollow. Except Vault 99 was also present. His delegation did well in not reacting, but he could see gears running in their heads. Then the Legion took the stand.

"If I have the floor, I would like to make a formal proposition to the assembled delegates here," He began, speaking as calmly and eloquently as would be expected for a Queastor, "My request is simple. I wish for this assemblage of nations and peoples to formally, and officially, denounce the New California Republic and its junior President Kimball, for its actions both at this summit and militarily in Arizona. By sending a rude and uncouth impostor to stand-in for its weak and ineffectual President, it has insulted every single member of this summit and has spurned both diplomatic and common courtesy. Furthermore, the preemptive invasion of Arizona, which was underway well before their delegates even sat down for the so-called 'peace negotiations' was an affront to the the very purpose of this meeting itself, and a direct insult to all parties involved."

Titus paused for a few moments, letting his words stand for the delegates to contemplate before he continued with gusto,

"If we here, now, as assembled nations of this continent, issue a formal denouncement of The NCR and their foolish actions here, we will be sending a message to the NCR people. No doubt Kimball will try and spin his actions, and those of his minions, as some sort of heroic struggle back home. Something that he was forced in to to protect his people or defend his nation. Or some other such utter nonsense. I wish the NCR people to know and understand just who is responsible for the current state they are in and who will have been the direct cause of their torments to follow. President Kimball Jr..."

The move was expected. The Legion was attempting to claim the moral high ground, hoping that they could use the NCR’s rash action to cover their own faults. It was plain to him that the NCR acted poorly, but Texas couldn’t abandon them by assenting to the Legion’s statement. It would be more powerful to deny them with the whole Co Prosperity Sphere behind them. If that wouldn’t work, then he’d have to recalculate.
A few minutes after the Legion’s statement, he replied starkly across the table to Titus “The Free Confederation of Texan States will take time to consider your proposal.”, he paused while giving the word for rangers to carry a statement inviting the Pennsylvanians, Keynesians, and Franklinians to discuss how to respond to and deny the Legion’s proposal during a pause in the deliberations. Each nation would receive the message from a grey clad Texas Ranger.

He turned his voice back to address the convention. “Now I would like to inquire about a matter we can surely agree on.”, he let that hang in the air for a few moments. “What action is being carried out against the Cult of Ug-Qualoth? My scouts report fighting in the north. This cult seems to defy basic human rights, and we believe action against them might be necessary”.

Fort Bliss- Ranger Commander Jensen Banks
“Yessir, those are two unidentified bogies scattering the NCR ranks. Faster than any other known operational flying vehicle.” The operator said as the fuzzy camera footage played out in real time on one of the many screens in Fort Bliss’s command center. Jensen could see the fearful soldiers throwing themselves to the ground as dark shapes swooped over their heads at low altitude.

“Can you get me a high resolution image?”, he replied with grim fascination.

“Images from our high altitude eyebot are coming in.” he pressed a few keys on the terminal. Lines of pixels began filling in on the screen until a whole picture of the bizarre looking aircraft was on the screen. And the Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel insignia was proudly plastered on it.

He stared at the image for a few moments, thinking of his options. While he’d prefer to radio New Austin for instructions, there wasn’t much time. There was a way he could figure out where the Hellions had come from, which could be immensely helpful if the troops were mobilized. War seemed imminent whether or not he did this.

“Mobilize the Stingray Deluxes. Order them not to engage. Pursue the Midwestern craft at safe, non threatening distance. Find out where they’re coming from.”

It wasn’t long before the two jets rocketed off of Fort Bliss’s ancient runway. He marveled at the beautiful aircraft as they took off, taking in the elegant power of their pre-war designs. He had grown up in conditions resembling the old world’s late 1800s, and now here he was observing inventions of the late 21st century take flight. The progress Texas had made was truly remarkable.

The operator broke the moment by explaining the obvious. “Senior Airman Adam Piler and Senior Airman Teagan Jones are in the air, sir. The Grey Hawks are on course.”
James Gregor Castner

"Uh. Right," she offered as paltry response. "Generations of us have been told...been conditioned, to stay in after dark. The fog is disorienting on any given day. Add some scant moonlight and foolishness and you have a death wish," Corrine finished, bitterly. She paused. "I know my way around, that much is true. An' I'm committed to helping us succeed to the best of my...ability. Or, whatever." Corrine turned her gaze to her toes.

He only nodded to that, recognizing that his attempt to motivate had failed. It was always Sarah’s job wasn't it? He suddenly felt strangely awkward. Earnest conversations like this had been few and far between for him since Maxson’s rule.

He thought he could see her cheeks turn red in the moonlight when he asked her about Steve. "I only met him this afternoon," she admitted. "He was soft spoken and polite. Then, it turns out, he's smart, an' good at fixing things. Plus, he seems to like me, enough." She turned her gaze back up towards Castner's face, smiling sheepishly. "I don't know if it's just that I haven't felt like that in a long time, or if he's the real deal, but I..." She crossed her arms, pulling her coat tighter around her body. "I hope we live to see tomorrow, and many more."

This time his nod was knowing when he lacked words. It was like how it had been years ago. Standing at the Citadel gates, Colleen telling him she hoped they would live to see the future after the crawler was destroyed, he told her they would if they trusted Lyons and their training, she nodded and he nodded when they should have held eachother, and they went to work.

Colleen broke the reflection. "Why do you ask, though?"

He didn't say anything for a long moment. He had repressed those memories for a long time, and he was abashed he was being triggered like this. But when he spoke again there was an unfamiliar emotional quality to his voice, “You just need to hold him close, and enjoy the moments you have.”, he answered unsteadily, fighting to regain composure and succeeding. His tone returned to normal “Now, the device seemed to point west.(OOC not 100% sure on Far Harbor geography, and I suppose the status of the Vertibird is up to Andro) I'm guessing heading directly there isn't a good option. What's the safest route to head that direction?”

James Gregor Castner
"It works", Steve said happily. "if we had the time using the tracker and the radio we could probably triangulate the position to within a stone's throw but time is something we don't have. If we're going to get the armor and weapons, at least, we need to go in the next few minutes. Once everyone's back, we need to go if we're going to do this. What do you guys think?" Steve asked in concluded.

Corrine visibly paled at the mention of leaving at night. If the most Island experienced one of them was afraid, then what did that say about the viability of the mission? Still, he would try to remain confident. Night ops in the Capital Wasteland hadn’t been anything to dismiss easily, and Lyon’s pride had been sent on them several times. “Sounds good to me”, James replied. “I need to put on my Brotherhood outfit for armor(OOC far left staticdelivery.nexusmods.com/mods/115… )
, even if it is dirty. The material is thick enough to offer some protection.”

Corrine took a slow breath. "I'll...go get my things. Be back at the gate in thirty minutes."

He nodded “I’ll be at the gate soon too.”, he turned to Steve “either of us could operate the device, though I have more weapons. It might be best if my hands weren’t full.”

With that said, he left the gun shop. The orange the sunset had cast on the town was mostly gone. The light was fading and Far Harbor citizens were hurriedly barring their doors. Children and pets were grabbed from the street and pulled inside, guns were being prepped, and women were rushing to bring buckets of water and food scraps inside. People threw him anxious glances as he he made his way, but everyone was in too much of a rush or fright to stop him. It didn’t take long to change and gather every useful thing he had. His duffel bag to carry whatever they found, a military flashlight, his weapons, and a key to open the hardboxes in the vertibird.

As he made his way to the gate, he half wondered what he would do if any of his brothers had survived. He had been so preoccupied with getting ready for this mission, that he hadn’t considered it’s implications. Scavenging brotherhood gear and giving it to strangers was a serious break with the rules. Those few who were in the bird would resist violently to such a plan, and he wasn’t sure if he trusted the townsfolk all the way… No. he would do what he had to to protect the innocent. If any of them got in his way he would deal with them.

He reached Corrine by the gate. She looked highly anxious, but grim and ready. He remembered knights looking the same way before combat against the Enclave. Reminding them of their training worked sometimes to give them confidence. “You have the most experience out of all of us with the island.”, he said frankly to Corrine. “I know that doesn’t mean you often spend time outside the walls at night, but it still should mean you’re better equipped than any of us to deal with this.”, he was silent for a couple minutes, letting her thoughts or replies play out. Then he tried to move off topic to calm the suspense. “How’s your relationship with Steve? He seems like a good man”.
James Gregor Castner

"I was born in Megaton", Steve replied, "But grew up in Rivet City. Was in a caravan with my dad...but our little caravan stumbled into the middle of a fight between the Brotherhood, or at least the ones calling themselves Outcasts back then, and the Enclave near the Ft Detrick crater....God only knows what they wanted there, the Chinese hit whatever the pace was so hard that even ghouls can't go in that crater without turning feral. Dad didn't make it out, and we lost the cargo so the caravan went bust. I had nothing keeping me in the Capital Wasteland anymore, so I went down to Baltimore and used my experience on repair crews in Rivet City and signed onto a ship...been at it ever since.”

James shook his head ruefully. “I’m sorry. Something very similar happened to me when I was a child in the Capital Wasteland. Only it was raiders before the Brotherhood or the Enclave were really around.”

Then they continued to work on the device. Steve sent Corrine away to find a HAM radio, while Steve disassembled the device. He wanted to tell Steve to keep Corrine close, to never let any petty thing drive them apart, or give him some advice he learned. The younger man reminded him of his younger self. But they needed to focus on the task at hand. It didn’t take them long to figure out what the problem was: the switch was broken.

"We need a replacement for this, James", Steve said as he showed him the switch. "it's broken but any switch about this size will work in it's place. Other than that it should still work....at least as long as it doesn't take another blow like that one again."

Steve then began rummaging around in the various bins and boxes on Corrine's shelf, and gestured for James to join him. He bent down and began digging through a nearly rotten cardboard box full of junk. It seemed to be filled with electronic components only partly taken apart, as if the scavver had been forced to stop before they were done. He made sure to put things back neatly when he was done, mindful of the junk’s possible value and Corrine’s ownership of it. Other Brotherhood soldiers might try to find dangerous tech in the box, he thought as he dug. Maybe he wasn’t much of a Brotherhood soldier anymore.

"I forgot to ask", Steve said, "What frequency is this device set to detect?"

“Military Frequency AF47”, he replied without looking up. Under a toaster chassis, he had found a switch similar to the one they needed to replace. Only there was a chunk of plastic still attached to it. He held it up for Steve to see. “Would this work?”

It was a little while later when Corrine came back with a HAM radio. "I'm back," she called into the shop, placing the radio onto the counter. "How're you makin' out, in here? Can I help?"

“We might just have gotten a working switch.” He looked to Steve to respond to needing help or not.

James Gregor Castner

"So your Death Squads were doing us a favor, is that your excuse?", The handy man sneered at the other James, "Well, forgive me if I'm not feeling very grateful. I'm not a fan of the Brotherhood by any means, but I can't deny they did us a solid by dealing with you people. I always thought the Brotherhood claims that you people tried to spike the Purifier with poison were bullshit...listening to you, I see now that it probably wasn't."

“It wasn’t”, James spoke up, his voice heavy with the memory of when they first discovered the Enclave’s plot. It was horrifying how close they had come to sure death. “I was there for all of it.”

The woman peered at his device over the handy man’s shoulder. It now looked as though she was about his age, but older than the man she had been standing so close too. She extended a hand. "I'm Corrine. My family's been on the island for generations," she nodded, wary of extending her hand to the newest stranger. "Nice to hear we have another mainlander on our side."

He shook it firmly in return. “Your town seems like it could use help, and I want to help. I crashed here like some god wanted me here. I would have had three more men behind me if we hadn’t been hit by something in the sky.”

The handyman turned his attention to him, responding to his proposal and then examining the tracker. "Maybe", Steve said, "If you don't mind I'll need to get it apart to know for sure."

He was a little nervous about handing off Brotherhood technology to an outsider. Years of living under the codex ingrained that in him, yet he had to push it aside. “No problem”, he heard himself saying. Corrine was getting even closer to the handyman, pushing her face near his. James remembered Colleen doing much the same thing one evening, when they were barely out of their power armor after a daily patrol. He sighed softly.

"I'm Steve Miller", Steve continued, "Chief Engineer, and sole survivor of the SS Regina...she was a tramp steamer out of Halifax. Went down in a storm about three weeks ago. Folks that picked me up dropped me off here."

“Sounds like a terrible experience. I’m not sure I would have been brave enough to take to the sea like that after so many years of fancy vertibirds.”, he chuckled a little, pushing away the bittersweet memory of the past. “Where are you from originally? You seem a little familiar.”

Before Steve could respond, the Enclaver interrupted again. “Since you’re the better Handyman, it seems, I’ll leave you to fix that and find out who owns this store", the Enclaver said as he turned to leave. "Even with the tracker fixed we may not be able to recover the equipment in time for the atom fruitcakes attack and should have access to the store’s stock without risk of being shot for being a thief.”

"You do that", Steve said, sounding glad to have the man out of his hair for a bit. "I could use a rifle as well, and Corrine needs 10mm ammo and N99 magazines."

“I already have Shark, Bear, and Talon”, he said as he gestured at the weapons on him. “But we lack armor unless this shop has some, or we get to the vertibird tonight. Also I'll standby to help you get the tracker up and running.” He squinted out a cracked window at the setting sun. “I’m not sure we have much time for anything if we don’t start preparing now. And I’m sure going outside the wall at night will be a bit more dangerous than day time.”
James Gregor Castner

"Aye you could say that," He replied sternly, "We found a man drowned in the wat....ah hell, who gives a shit. Someone gutted that newcomer like a trout. One of the two you and Corrine found up at Acadia. Slit his throat and tossed him in the sea. The other one, the woman, is going on about people not being real-people or some mainland nonsense. Institute this, Synth that. Whatever. I'm going to go lie down..."

So a man was dead. And the Institute and synths were involved. This town’s problems kept building up by the second. He’d read the reports about the Institute: scientists spewing scientific horrors like robotic imitations of people onto the Commonwealth for the sake of it. No accountability, no oversight. He hadn’t exactly agreed with Maxson’s crusader plan, but he believed they had to be stopped.

Once old Longfellow had wandered off the other James turned back to him “Considering the Brotherhood just invaded the Commonwealth, I’m gonna assume you know what the Institute and synths are.”

“I do. A base full of scientists creating whatever dangerous tech they want. And synths are fake men.”

“Well what you may not have heard is that the Brotherhood isn’t the only one fighting back. Bishop and Rose belonged to a group called the Railroad; except they wish to free synths instead of destroy them... I sorta work or worked I guess for them as well but...let’s just say my role required that I wasn't publically an official Member.”

“I’ve heard some reports and there was a branch in the Capital Wasteland I ran into once. Don’t seem like bad folk, though my old comrades might disagree. Some synths are just workers who want freedom from what I’ve heard. I could understand that.”

“Needless say but freeing synths and interrupting Institute operations doesn't exactly get you well liked by the Institute and with railroad lacking the Powered armour army the brotherhood have they are easily eliminated once the Institute discovers the cell or in this case the counting mission.”

He simply nodded at that. It made sense that an underground organization like that could get wiped out if an enemy like the Institute came knocking.

“When we first met Bishop and Rose they said the atom fruitcakes and their mind control beasts tore apart their squad as they went up to the observatory but me Connie didn’t encounter any Atom members until we reached the top and they made it quite clear they could have attack us anytime....“

“That’s strange. Most mutant cult types are more bloodthirsty. I’ve got a few ideas how we can fight back.” He was already imagining the wonders he could do in his power armor and Cracker.

The other James nodded towards the Gun store, needing to prepare before the Atom attack. He began to walk and talk with the other James “Rose is the last railroad agent so if the institute courser wanted her dead they’d just shoot her and leave.... they have no reason to stick around and probably have their own method transportation of the island.”
“How the Institute moves was still a mystery to us before I was dropped here. It has to be something unconventional.”, he thought for second, scratching his beard. “Maybe it wasn’t the Institute who killed Bishop? Perhaps some islander fed up with outsiders like Longfellow just was?”

“Institute Courser are about as deadly as your Brotherhood Paladins and frequently use stealth boys... You may not like the idea but only way we are going to have a chance to beat the bastard is to catch them in the act.."

He shrugged. “Unless the Institute has somehow advanced stealth boy technology, then it shouldn’t be a perfect disguise. He’ll have a hideout somewhere, maybe out of town. If it is an Institute Courser that is. It seems like a Courser would have killed them before you even found them in Acadia.”

They then entered the gun-store just as an islander woman asked a man about something “ "Secondly", the man continued. He looked oddly familiar, "Back in the Last Plank, Rose said something about meeting a "Enclave Bastard".....any idea who she meant by that?"

“She was referring to me.” the other James replied as they stood in the doorway of the gun shop, his Overcoat still open and his battle damaged enclave officer suit clearly visible to both people.

It was silent for a few moments. James stood there awkwardly, feeling at the drama the other James had created out of his background. Then again, he had provoked the same sort of drama earlier hadn’t he?

The woman grit her teeth. "What the hell is the meaning of this? You just put yerself into any conversation you want?" She shook her head and pointed a finger at the other James, accusingly. "Well, he ain't lyin'. Up in Acadia, he flat out told Bishop and Rose he was 'Enclave'." She paused for a moment "Didn't mean much to me, but now that I think about it, Bishop and Rose weren't too happy about it."

The Enclaver and the woman bickered some, and said something about a boiling water scheme, which sounded like a clever plan. He didn’t quite understand, but he did understand he was tired of being a third wheel to these islanders and some Enclaver. After they were done talking, he spoke up. “I have my own plan to help out. I was in a Brotherhood of Steel vertibird on the way over here when it crashed somewhere on the island. It’s got good gear on it: power armor, heavy weapons, ammunition, and the armor plating could be salvaged from it”, he looked over at the man who hadn’t yet spoken. It looked like he had just finished doing some serious gun maintenance. “I have a device that can locate the downed vertibird, but it broke when I… fell out of the bird mid air.”, he held out the transmitter device to the man. “Think you can fix it? Also what are your names? I’m James Gregor Castner, former Paladin of the Brotherhood of Steel”.

Lieutenant General Alfred Miller of Vault 99

The navy blue vertibird’s occupants stayed inside throughout the first night of the convention, as he commanded. No use in spending no more time than necessary in what he assumed were ruins with christmas lights stringed together. General Stein told him not to underestimate the savages, but it was hard not to see the wastelanders as the descendents of the weakest in American society. Descendents of dregs and cowards who didn’t lift a finger to fight against the communists in one of America’s greatest struggles. Now everyone was paying for their weakness dearly in this hellscape. It was up to the veterans to restore this country yet again.

The night passed in a familiar rhythm of weapon maintenance and R&R. It wasn’t long before the message summoning them to the convention hall was received. The delegation was, of course, long ready by that time. Stein had urged some subtlety, but he knew it would be better to intimidate the savages, approach from a position of strength, so only the strongest would be attracted to their cause. They would stage an impromptu military parade. As the Vertibird door opened, they marched out double file. Himself at the front, two aids holding an American flag and a Vault 99 flag behind him, two soldiers playing a marching step with drums behind the aids, and eight more soldiers behind them. The whole column was saluting and marching in order, all in blue digital camo versions of old army fatigues and ranking outfits. The soldiers had blue colored combat armor on and plasma rifles hoisted.

As they marched through the streets, Alfred occasionally glanced at the architecture around them. He was surprised wastelanders had nearly matched pre-war conditions, but he rationalized it as there having to be some guiding pre-war intelligence to all of this. His orders were to make contact with such a designer, and three other factions with similar goals to Vault 99’s: the Enclave, the Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel, and the Legion. From the reports, the Enclave were similar true Americans and the MWBoS were wastelanders who trusted in order, strength, and technology. The Legion seemed like filth they had no business negotiating with, but they had shared a similiar goals of annihilating the pretender Texans.

They soon reached the Ultra Luxe and reluctantly handed off their weapons. Alfred entered the room stiffly. “Vault 99, a bastion of true Americans, has arrived. You may approach us for discussion”. His aides and him took their seats and studied the various info readouts that were coming through their Pip Boy 4000s, while the ten soldiers stood stiffly behind them.
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