Chapter 3: When Freedom Calls

Jon and Jake walked on opposite sides of the road towards the Red Rocket, and thus Concorde not far after. The walk in total was about a couple hours. They weren’t keeping their distance for any lack of trust at this point, but good sense in case some chemed out raider popped from the bushes and threw a molotov. Codsworth kept back, holding the rear, and using his 360 degree vision to full effect. They did share some words as they got closer to the gas station, keeping silent and alert for most of the trip.

Jon said, “What do you know about Vault-Tech.”

Jake spit, “They’re fucking assholes, is what they are, like most of the pre-war Government. They’re called the Enclave, by the way, and I’m pretty sure they’re the same thing as Vault-Tech. Bad, bad news. The Brotherhood tangled with them in the Capital Wasteland, and it near broke them at the height of their power at the time, a single bunker of rats. They did break the Enclave in the Capital, but I heard rumors about Chicago.”

Jon nodded at the HUMINT. He asked, “Brotherhood? And how is DC not just a green crater.”

Jake said, “Like the Glowing Sea? Don’t know. Maybe the type of bombs it got hit with were different. I passed though on the way up. There were craters, it was green, but it was actually getting better with Project Purity. The Brotherhood are tech-raiders in power armor. Not as overt as real raiders, but that’s basically what they are, especially out west. If you got something they deem dangerous, you best give it up and hope they don’t think you know too much. The NCR took chunks out of a couple chapters, but the East Coast is as strong as ever. Turns out Scribes and Knights like to drink and brag in Rivet City, so do outcasts that left on good terms. The Paladins and Sentinels are always a little tighter lipped.”

Jon asked, “Why is the East Coast better? They fought the Government and won, why couldn't the west? Difference in philosophy?”

Jake said, “Bang on, slick. Elder Lyons lead the expedition to DC, and he took a whole different approach. Started recruiting from outside, where others were basically isolationist cults. He also started actually helping people, in exchange for new blood, and their help finding tech. They rebuilt Liberty Prime for Atom’s sake. Before the battle of Jefferson Memorial, they were basically becoming a government themselves, actually trying to rebuild. They still do that somewhat, but Maxon took over, and he has a hard fucking line. The west hated Lyons, and Maxon was the direct heir of the Maxon, the founder, so they named him Elder at 18 years old. Sarah Lyons was dead, so she couldn’t contest it. They have some whole ritual about challenging for leadership apparently. The battle was about 10 years ago, and he took the throne a couple years ago.”

Jon said, “I don’t like the sound of Maxon. Nepotism at that age? He’ll be an arrogant wad. What made the founder the founder.”

Jake said, “The way they tell it he stumbled upon FEV experiments at Mariposa, a la our friends in the Government, and deserted with his company a couple days before the war. They became the Brotherhood after the bombs fell, sworn to stop science from outpacing man’s restraint. FEV combined with radiation is was made most of the mutations you see. Everyone has some FEV in them, and it’s probably what gave us a bit of tolerance to all the radiation so fast after the bombs fell. Otherwise we all would have died outright from the black rain and hot snow. The Enclave had some plan to target it with poison using Purity, to kill everything off so they could rebuild from scratch. Dunkin people in vats of the stuff is what makes Super mutants. They’re green, bigger than you by half, and can rip a man in power armor apart with their bare hands. Groups can usually be traced to a single source. No one knows where the Commonwealth tribe come from.”

And like that Jon had multiple new existential panics to deal with. The FEV had infected him, and was doing Q knows what with his aggressive immune system, multiple now confirmed death cults to deal with, whoever kidnapped Shaun, probably the same people that make the Super mutants, and the fact that they could rip him apart if they got on him. It was a classic blunder to ask questions you don’t want answers too, but he needed those answers.

Jake saw his pale tan features and decided to deflect his anxiety. He would be worried too if he heard about all this for the first time. He said, “Say, if I may ask, where you from, and where’d you get that Pip-Boy.”

Jon hushed, “A different timeline, and from an inter-dimensional god named Q on top of vault 111. If you believe that absurdity.”

Jake deadpanned for a few purposeful moments. He said, “Yup. I saw a lot of the wastes on the way up, and a lot of strange things. Even a flying saucer one night. Man, you’re like out of a comic book. Man, this all must be a real fucking shock to you. Welcome to Earth, I guess. Whatever’s left of it.”

Jon huffed a short chuckle, still pale. He could handle it quick, but that was what they did. Not him. The group slowed their pace, and Codsworth kept up his vigilant watch. Fucking aliens just had to come up. He hoped the Borg didn’t use saucers.

He said, “Yeah. I thought I had come to terms with it. I knew this land would be dangerous, but.”

He huffed and said, “I’m genetically engineered super soldier for fucks sake.”

Jake said, “And you still look like a nervous wreck right now. Damn, this land is harsh. Harsher than even I thought, a I live here. What was it like where you were from. They don’t make super soldiers without war, that's what the FEV was originally, apparently. Must not be great war, or you would have your own mutated monsters.”

Jon said, “Eugenics Wars. I’m not the only of my kind. They were fucking psycho war criminals. The fuck wanted to steamroll a school, and the Marines that abandoned their mission to protect it just because they were in our way. Wouldn't even confirm their position and flush them out on foot like I offered to take my auxiliaries to do, like actual fucking tank doctrine says you should. Just blow up the school that looked like my creche academy and grind them all under our treads. Inferior, defective they were. Supposed to be the next step for humanity or some bullshit. It was about empire, and power, like it always was, is. An intellectually superior man created, and then the morally inferior created did so himself.”

Jake nodded, “So he could have backup. Always strength in numbers, especially hand crafted kin. You sound like you been though a lot. Keep your head on, and you’ll make it here. You got the stats and skills I’m sure. Can I look at your SPECIAL?”

Jon showed him, “S:28 P:20(+) E:25 C:11 I:17 A:13 L:10”

Jake shook his head in wonderment, and was thankful not to be asked for the same. “Jeasus H Mary. I always wondered what a super man’s stats would look like. Now I know. Normal folks don’t usually don't get to ten in any one thing, let along go over it without some kind of aid. Goggles, power armor, certain mods, chems, extensive training. Seem to be top heavy on strength and endurance.”

Jon said, “Denser musculature, and carbon fiber bone structure. I know I’m a little stronger than most, not the most agile of my kind, both due to size, but everything else is probably average. The others couldn’t rip me apart. Fuck me up, sure.”

Jake chuckled and nodded, “A wide country mile between the two, and how you react to the threat of it for the first time. Man ain’t the top of the food chain anymore, at least not in the wastes. Station’s right here. I imagine you’ll want to scout it out, and it has a good vantage into Concorde.”

Jon said, “There’s also a dog I can smell. Be careful.”

Jake said, “Oh yeah, mongrels are not fun either.”

Codsworth joined in, “I can easily handle a mutt, sirs. Would you like you to flush it out, Mr. Singh?”

Just as Codsworth made his offer the dog walked from around the side of the building. Something felt wrong about meeting them here and now, like he was supposed to meet someone else, but here they were to meet. He gave a tentative sniff, and the one truly was a stranger, but he looked nice enough. He gave a bark, and began panting with a wagging tail. He began to take steps towards the group, and picked up his pace with a couple more barks when the big one kneeled down and offered a hand.

Jon scratched the dog when it came up and started sniffing his hand. He was in good shape, didn’t look irradiated or sickly, and had a scar here and there from wasteland battle.

Jon said, “Sit.”

The dog sat instantly, well trained. Jon smiled and looked at the piece of tin attached to his leather collar. It was crudely carved with Dogmeat, his name. Dogmeat turned his head back towards Concorde, and gave a few huffs and low squeals. He obviously wanted to pull the group there for some purpose.

Jon said, “That’s we’re were going, pal.” And Dogmeat gave a happy bark, before getting back up to lead the way.

The two men took to the cliff edge though the last small field before the road dipped down into the town. A two headed Brahman was dead at an intersection that that either entered the town, or bypassed it entirely. Two Blood bugs, as Jake called them, were picking at the half eaten corpse. In the town they could see the raiders standing at the foot of the Museum of Freedom, as Jake also called it, dedicated to the Revolutionary War.

There were about a dozen of them, and they wore all manner of dirty and ratty clothes. Some had nicer leather on them, others had metal spiked scrap armor, cage helmets, wild patterns, prison jumpsuits, one even a gimp mask to complete the look. They had ramshackle pipe weapons, chambered in 32 usually, sawed off shotguns, and a couple hunting rifles both short and long, and one even a beat up Kalashnikov pattern rifle. It looked hand made. If they were smart they would be in cover along the sides, and not cajoling in front of a classic snipers nest, with no patrols anywhere else in the town. Someone was in there that they wanted.

Jake said, “Looks like it was some-one they were looking to ambush. And they're in the museum. They’ll need some help, slick. Whats the plan? You got the brains of this operation.”

Jon smiled, “Don’t sell yourself short. How good are you with that big iron.”

Jake put on his goggles, obviously with a targeting interface like his glasses, and said, “Ornery bloat fly at 50 yards, without VATS. That was my best shot, though admittedly there's a little luck involved, even with VATS.”

Jon didn’t hesitate, “You sure as shit need that hat, cowpoke. Good enough. You take the center, and hit them from long range down the main drag. I’ll move up the right side and get in close on that road cutting across. Codsworth you take the left. Check your fire everyone. Hit em hard and fast, before they even know. Wait for my signal, unless something changes, like their mark suiciding onto that balcony.”

The group began moving down the hill with purpose, weapons ready, while still maintaining some spacing in their formation. To prove his point, Jake snapped two quick shots off at the Blood bugs, cooking and bursting them both in a shower of the blood they were feeding on. His big iron was a laser energy weapon, and was actually pretty quiet. The raiders still carrying on like they had already won drowned out any sound from it reaching them.

Codsworth went down the road bypassing the town to take his position. He was happy to get out of the neighborhood, and even happier to be cleaning up the trash while doing it, with a man that truly respects him for what he was. The stranger was charming, and the dog not actually a mutt, though he did smell according to his olfactory sensors. A bath in raider blood would fix that right up!

Jon and Jake split off as they reached the intersection that took Jake down the main drag. The raiders didn’t even have people in the second floor of the pharmacy, a perfect vantage to hold their rear. Their attention was solely on their quarry. He took cover at the corner at the end of the main street.

Jon continued with Dogmeat up the right side street. His rifle was at the ready, swaying with the motion of his eyes as he checked angles and roofs above. As he came to a corner, he would purposely slow his pace, pie it, ensuring no raider would come from the side and get lucky. They only had to get lucky once. A shot though his brain stem, and his bodily functions would shut down like anyone else. He would die of oxygen starvation long before an injury like that could repair itself, especially without proper life support that wouldn't be available in the wasteland. Cutting their stings and leaving them lay in the dirt was an effective strategy to killing an Augment. They weren't invincible, after all.

As he got near the end of the row of buildings, he heard a door kick open, and the louder thrum of an energy weapon. Probably some kind of rifle. The raiders screamed as they scrabbled for cover. Jon also oddly heard a crank, and then a second shot follow up near fast as lightning. Jake opened up his fire, and Codsworth began his charge in.

Jon rounded the corner, not bothering to check his right like he should. It was popping off, and Dogmeat smartly ran ahead and took that direction, so his new master could go left into the fight. This dog as scary smart, Jon though. Jon popped out from the cover, and his first shot sailed though the head of a raider about to bring his weapon to bear at the ridiculous looking man on the balcony. Her head snapped to the side, and gray matter sprayed from the exit wound onto the street.

Codsworth had picked his first target, splashing them with flames, only enough to distract, and was on the raider before they could recover. A crying saw blade lashed down though where the neck met shoulders. The scream of the raider became gurgles with the churning blade hit lung, and they stopped when it hit heart. The spray of viscera went in all directions, in particular onto the Codsworth.

“A good day for you to die, is it not!” he cried as he moved to his next closest target.

Between the group, and the man on the balcony, they had lost half their number in the opening seconds of the engagement. Jon advanced and brought his rifle around to check the shop space for any raiders. He was rewarded with three more that had dived in when the man opened up with the junk weapon he had. There was a similar rifle laying next to the body of a man in blue, though not the same outfit as the man on the balcony. On his perch, he never stopped his fire though the entry of the group to the engagement. It was obvious they were apart of some kind of organization.

Jon tried his VATS on the three raiders bringing their weapons to bear on him. Time slowed and he targeted all three in the head. There was only a 95% chance to hit according to his targeting software. It would be 100% if he was snapping the shots off free hand. There must be some margin of error built into the system, or hard limits due to deficiency in it. He compensated by giving each head two shots. His action points were reddened out an appreciable amount from the targeting, but nowhere near all the way. Its wasn't inexhaustible, and he had limits, like everyone else.

Two shots each wasn't necessary. Three shots snapped their heads and sprayed blood onto the floor, counters, and tools of Jake’s shop. He hopped he wouldn't be too mad about that. Probably not from what he knew of the man.

Codsworth had killed his second raider, Jake his fourth, the man his second, in addition to Jon’s four. The engagement was over in less than ten ticks of his clock. Twelve raiders were dead. Jon snapped around and began to bring his rifle up at the man. He did the same. Before they both got their rifles up at each other, they both locked eyes and hesitated. Then they both slowly lowered their weapons. He was in a blue colonial duster, stetson hat with one side pinned up, a lighting bolt crossed with a musket stitched into the front, and had hard bloodshot eyes. The man had been though some shit, Jon knew. A lot of it.

The man’s deep force cracked as he spoke, as if his eyes were tearlessly crying. He yelled, “I got a group of settlers in here, and the raiders are almost though the door! Help us, please!”

Jon nodded with determination, and the man instantly went back inside. Jon could hear the gunshots against the other side of the whatever room they were holed up in. the group collected around the door to breech in.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Codsworth said, “If I may, I can hold the fort out here sirs. Those quarters might be a little too tight for me in there. I can take the vantage atop the hardware store, and yell if a follow on force arrives. I assume this is your shop we’re liberating, Mr. Evans?”

Jake said, “Yup, and go ahead. That's a good plan. Right behind you, slick.”

Jon nodded, and Codsworth went to take his position. Dogmeat hadn’t gotten in on the action yet, but that was okay for him. Some masters needed his combat skills, some only needed a faithful companion to sniff out the enemies. The deadly man in Army green probably needed neither.

Jon and Jake stacked on the door. Jake really knew what he was doing, to Jon’s relief. Being a crack shot wasn’t the only thing that got you though a firefight, though it was always a big help.

Jon opened the one double door slowly, and Jake swept in. Jon was right behind him. He took the one on the left, opposite the right he entered on, and Jake took the right. A double tap with his rifle sent the first round tumbling though the raider’s chest cavity, exiting nowhere, and the second snapped his head back like his comrades outside. A single shot from Jake’s big iron lobotomized his target.

Then the two men both turned left. There were two raiders almost though the door on the third story walkway, and they were both beginning to make ready at the enemy storming in. A miss read prevented both raiders from dropping instantly. Jake and Jon each prioritized the one actually armed, figuring the other was good enough to know to hit the other only armed with a pool stick covered in razor blades and thinner razor wire. A second massed volley a faction of a second after took him down as well.

As Jon took point though the next corridor, bypassing the locked gate, he said, “Cowpoke, don’t ever think those stats mean something.”

Jake whispered, “Thanks, slick. That means a lot comin from you.”

They moved down a short corridor that took them back towards the front of the building. Then in turned into the start of a hall separated in two dedicated to historical displays. The first room only had displays and cabinets.

A voice piped up with a cartoonish colonial accent, “No taxation without representation!”

Based on that, and the plaques a glanced at to read, this wasn't a serious place of history. More like propaganda that uses broad strokes. The king was a tyrant, the founders were loved freedom, the Indians were bad but now they're good Americans, everyone is now super free and equal today, except Chinese and commies, the Government is great and protects your rights. This wouldn't be a place he could discern real differences in the timelines. For all he knew everything was the same until 1947.

A raider popped though the door at the very end of the directed path just before Jon and Jake crossed the first threshold in it. She was actually smart and had her sawed off double barrel up and ready to fire. Jon threw his arm back to grab Jake and threw them both into cover before buckshot pellets screamed though the doorway.

A second shot followed not long after, the raider firing both on instinct, and Jon leaned out with his rifle before she could retreat and calmly squeezed his own trigger twice. One shot hit her chest, and the second lodged into the wall behind her along with brain matter. She fell like a rock, the blood leaking onto the floor with a wet sound.

Jake was trying to catch his breath, having the wind knocked out of him. Jon asked, “You okay, cowpoke? Sorry.”

Jake said, “I’m good, slick. Better than buckshot.”

They moved though the second room, and it was a display about the Boston Tea Party, again with more propaganda. The voice said, “Take back your tea, you jakinapes!”

They moved from the path, and the room behind the locked gate had stairs to proceed up the other levels. The floor was partially collapsed into the basement, revealing a maintenance area and generator behind a cage.

Jake said, “Floor wasn't collapsed last I checked. Or I would have taken those tools and fusion core. It’s premo loot, slick, even empty casings are worth it because they can be recharged if you have specialized equipment, though that is rare rare. The things can last forever at low power like that, or years even in heavy applications like power armor. You can really burn though em in something like a Gatling laser though.”

Jon said, “Thanks for the tip. Keep moving.”

They moved up to the second level and went down a corridor slowly. They could hear the raiders talking in the room. How they didn’t hear the fighting, or at least the gunshots stopping, he didn’t know. He did know. They were drugged out criminals, a favorite for certain Augments that were more gang leaders than war leaders. Not Noonien-Singh Augments. Say what you want about them, they had one or two standards. He just began to see a though the ages mural, starting with the revolution and concluding where he couldn’t see yet.

He gave a hand for Jake wait, and began his storm. The full wall terminated, and continued as a half wall with windows that used to be there. He leapt though one of the frames, and his first attack was aimed at the raider standing with his side to him. Jon’s entrance was fast, and the raider didn’t have time to react before Jon’s boot kicked into his rib cage, shattering it entirely and sending him flying into the depicted white power armor standing triumphantly on the moon. A quick strep towards his partner, and the hardwood but of his rifle flew into his temple, caving his skull in and sending blood flying in a perfect arc away. He was dead, and his friend would be from the bone shrapnel lodged in his lungs, but he still sealed the deal with one shot, though the head, ending his gurgling. Ideally he would double tap both, but he had considerations he wasn't used to working with.

Jake and Dogmeat strolled in, “Remind me not to get on your bad side, slick.”

Jon scoffed, “You don’t got to worry, cowpoke.”

Jake asked, “Real quick, since the locale is relevant, what was the difference in the timelines? Where did it all go wrong? The bombs?”

Jon said, “The transistor. 1947.”

Jake said, “Ah, 2047. That's a nice clean break then. A least you didn’t blow yourselves up, apparently.”

Jon scoffed, “Yet. I predicted 50 years until the resource crisis hit, and the bombs not long after, no more than 100 at the most conservative. It was 1998 where I came from.”

Jake returned it, “That's about when ours hit, 2050s, and the bombs in 2077. Apparently Europe nuked the Middle East first because they didn't have oil anymore. Then China invades Alaska for the last reserves, then the US gets close to winning because of power armor, then the bombs. Ms. Smith made it clear that the history came from pre-war books, Government seal and all, and probably propaganda. Take it with a grain of salt.”

Jon nodded, “The best propaganda is usually close to the truth. Damn you did get a real education as a kid. Consider me impressed.”

Jake smiled, then grimaced a bit, “Pappy ran a town, it was a good town. Then it all went to shit as it does. Maybe I’ll tell you about it later.”

Jon said, “I wont pry cowpoke.”

The man’s voice called out, “You guys out there? It’s clear out here! Come on up!”

He sounded better than he did on the balcony. Jon was right. He came out for one final blaze of glory, and now he had hope he didn’t before. Jon said, “Yeah!”

The three went up to the door they barricaded and entered the room that the survivors were holed up in. There was the man, beside him on a terminal a greaser in denim overalls and arms as wide as Jon’s nearly, a gypsy woman sitting on the couch that Dogmeat instantly ran over too, and a broken couple. The husband was sobbing into his knees, and the wife pacing back and forth, muttering.

The man said, “Man I don’t know who you guys are, but your timing is impeccable. No offense, but what’s this going to cost us?”

Jon was only nearly offended, “Information. That's it. I’m new to the Commonwealth, so is he, though we only just met. There’s a place up the road, Sanctuary, I can take you there.”

Jake said, “The hardware shop outside is mine. He’s helping me take it back.”

The man cranked his head over to the old woman with a smile, and she returned it. Something was going on, Jon saw.

The wife broke entirely, “Oh yeah, Sanctuary, the place Mamma Murphy saw stoned off her gourd! We’re going to trust that! And him!? Look at him, hes a fucking synth! Perfect teeth and everything!”

The man barked, “We don’t really have a choice, and some info is well worth a rescue, synth or not. Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen. That’s Sturgis, Mamma Murphy, the Longs Marcy and Jun.”

Jon said, “Nice to meet you all, though the circumstances could be better.”

Codsworth yelled out from his vantage, heard though the broken windows, “Sirs! More raiders approaching! Five minutes out!”

Preston didn’t hesitate, “Sturgis hit him with the plan.”

The man got up from his failed hacking attempts and leaned back on the desk, “There’s a crashed vertibird on the roof, old school, pre-war. It’s last owner left behind a seriously sweet goody. A cherry set of T-45 power armor, military issue.”

Jake said, “That’s some serious protection, slick.”

Sturgis said, “Only one problem.”

Jon said, “It needs a fusion core.”

Jake said, “I’m on it. Be back in a jiff.”

Sturgis chuckled and nodded, “All right, now we’re cooking with gas. None of us have security as our forte. Get that suit running, rip the mini-gun right off the bird, and give those raiders an express ticket to hell.”

Jon gave him an evil smile, and Sturgis and Preston returned it. Jon remembered being an idiot one time, with an ammo and battery pack on his back just like in the movies.

He said, “Mini-gun, now we’re talking.”

Marcy muttered, “Give a fucking synth power armor and a mini-gun.”

Jon didn’t think anything of it. She was going though some shit, and she could call him whatever she wanted. Mamma Murphy cut in, “He’s not a synth Marcy. Your a man out of place, kid. Someone I didn’t see coming. But Dogmeat says your alright.”

Jon went to her and kneeled beside Dogmeat, “You’re a seer? I’ve spoken to a few. Most were frauds, only one knew what they were about.”

Mamma Murphy asked, “She say anything about old Mamma Murphy?”

Jon smirked said, “Just that she wasn’t the only one I’d meet. She called a lot about my life without knowing a thing about me. Specific details. I didn’t really get a reading though. Just gave her some rations for what she did say. Readings for food in a refugee camp.”

Mamma Murphy nodded, “Hmm, somewhere in a place called Asia. You got a lot of juice in you kid. You were made like a science experiment, but still born like a man. The details are fuzzy, though. The sight needs chems. Then it gets clear. All I can tell you is watch yourself out there. There's something big, angry. A face of death, and full of claws.”

That was certainly ominous. Jake came back, “Here you go, slick. I’ll come out the main door, how about you keep your perch, Preston?”

He nodded, “Good a plan as any. Our luck really is turning around. See you out there.”

The three split, and Jon signaled for Dogmeat to stay were he was. He went down the opposite side he came in and exited to the roof. He looked at the armor standing with a downward cast, waiting for its power source and pilot. Jon would need to strip his armor and helmet to fit in. The advantage to his light armor was that it could fit easily into his pack. He could leave it in the cove for the time it took to kill the raiders. There was also a holotape, a magazine, and other bits he would have to pick up later.

Looking at the rust coated armor, he was impressed with the protection the armor provided. While the material looked like base steel, that would be good enough, and he assumed he would find more advanced modular pieces. It also had magnetic attachment point for his weapons.

The problem was those weapons had to be modified to fit the larger mechanical hands. And he just knew the armor would actually slow him down, maybe even be completely unwieldy with his capabilities. While for a normal person it would represent a significant step up, but for him it stood a good chance of blowing it’s servos if he pushed it to what he could do in terms of strength and speed. He would use it only in certain situations, when he needed to be a walking tank, which is what he assumed it was made for.

He got his gear stowed while musing, and slotted the core into the back of the suit. He turned the hatch to the left, and the had to step back what the armor opened for him to step into. He took his position, and was encased with the protection the still proud suit provided.

The computer system and HUD lit up, with holo-gauges to now represent his various vitals. It even spoke with a feminine voice, “Welcome back, Sgt. Daley. Previous session registered 2-1-1 years ago. How are you? I see you have found a Pip-Boy.”

He began to walk slowly so he could get a feel, an a quick look at his special confirmed his strength was capped at 20. he needed a lighter touch with the armor. And of course the suit had a helper program that had become self-aware in some capacity.

As he ripped the mini-gun from the ridiculous looking VTOL craft he said, “Sgt. Daley is most likely dead. I am Second Lieutenant Jon Singh, retired, United States Marines. Raiders are assaulting settlers and a member of the Commonwealth Minutemen. I’m commandeering this suit to stop them.”

“Here they come, slick!”

A drop down the pavement, with a loud slam and crack of the asphalt. “Error. Error. Calculating. Probably of Sgt. Daley’s death 100%, margin of error 1%. New pilot registered, Lieutenant Singh, retired. Second amendment protocols activated. Minutemen registered blue. Criminal elements registered red.”

“Come here and show me that fancy gun up close! Kill Hi-”

What. A. Fucking. Idiot. Jon thumbed the motor as he started his taunt, and the trigger as soon as it was almost done. A spray of 5mm armor piercing rounds cut him in half, and blew his guts near back to the end of the street. Another dozen raiders were once again in the open, spraying Jon with fire, and only dinging off the steel the shots that actually hit. Their weapons couldn’t penetrate, and the last of the force with a weapon capable of it was their dead leader, his own high caliber sawed off rifle.

“Beep beep beep. Left leg registering damage. Remand suit for maintenance, and yourself for possible court marshal.”

Jon scoffed, and chucked at the vocalized beeps and threat, “I don’t think that will be a problem. Just hold out a little longer.”

He clicked on his radio, DCR, and the perfect song was just starting, and Jon thought he could hear maniacal laughing in the background of it. “OHHHHHH well I’m the kind of guy, who never settles down…”

Jon pulled the trigger and cut the raiders down. He began a near waddle forwards, and red beams lashed out in anger over his head and at his side. One lost the top half of their body to Jon’s burst. Another lost their head to Preston’s expert aim with that hunk of junk, Jake gut shot another and left them to die slow. One by one they went down in a spray of blood, theirs and their comrades’. One up on the balcony of a larger house also got their due when the rotting wooden planks provided no cover from Jon’s assault.

“They call me a wanderer, yeah a wanderer. I roam around around around around.”

Then Mamma Murphy’s sight came true. A metal plate covering sewer construction snapped up. Jon didn’t hesitate to start a quick backpedal as fast as the armor could take him.

“Registering new enemy. Designation, Deathclaw. Do be careful Lieutenant Singh. I would hate for you to miss your court marshal for damaging Government property.”

Jon scoffed again. If there wasn't a nuclear time bomb there, and a little further down the street, he would be worried about the 10 foot tall reptilian alpha predator crawling out from the deep. It was bronze with yellow stripes, and a white belly, gnarled horns curling around it’s head.

“Holy shit that's a goddamned Deathclaw, Slick!”

Jon yelled, “FIRE IN THE HOLE”

Jake took cover, and Preston slid back in to the museum. They both knew what the man would do.

Jon opened up just as the Deathclaw roared in challenge. His burst of 5mm went straight into the engine bay of the car beside the Deathclaw’s hole. It only took a second for the near dormant fusion plant to go white hot in a nuclear ball of fire. The explosion honestly wasn't that big. Very well contained, and fusion detonations have little radiation. While the fireball didn’t directly impact the hide of the thing, the concussive force did drop it immediately, liquefying its internal organs. They weren't invincible if you had the right tools in front of you.

“Good show” flashed across his HUD while Jake began to yelp in celebration.

“Error, error. Unidentified communist intrusion.”

“Probably a maintenance issue. We’ll get you fixed up after I get these people on the road.”

“Thank you Lieutenant Singh”

He turned around and walked back to the door of Jake’s shop. He activated the internal release, and the suit said, “Goodbye Lieutenant Singh, see you soon.”

Jake said, “Damn fine work, slick. Its not every day you take down a Deathclaw. What did you think of the armor? I don’t imagine they had something like that back home.”

Jon said, “Not even close. Only theoretical for even a clunky a exo-skeleton, not even a full suit like this. Honestly, I wouldn't use it in most situations. I’m actually stronger than it. I was capped at 20. if I put full power into her, I would burn her up. And I lose speed and maneuverability”

Jake nodded, “Oh yeah. Its meant to augment a normal person. The protection is second to none though. Sometimes you need to be a walking tank.”

Jon said, “I can definitely see places I would use it. The radiation protection was stellar too. I bet I could upgrade that even further.”

Jake said, “Yup. If you ever have to take a trip down to the Glowing Sea. I bet that Sturgis could fix you up. He’s got an Atom Cat look and feel to him. They’re a power armor gang. But not a real gang like these assholes, just kids with way to much hardware from what I saw. Anyway, I’m going to get your payment ready. One box of ASAMs, as agreed.”

Jon nodded, “You should come with us. They may send one more patrol, at least to see if what they were after is more trouble than it’s worth. They were already pretty smart to have a follow on ready not that far away. It wont be safe tonight. I’m going to take that corpse to that farm. See if I can trade with it.”

He nodded, “Yeah, not a bad idea. You can for sure trade with it. And I can get them set up too with ASAMs too. They look like they need a hand. Thanks, by the way. Not many would bother to help people out like you did for me and them. Especially ones with bigger problems like you have. I’ll drop your box off in your garage on the way back.”

Codsworth was now satisfied that his watch was no longer necessary and came rocketing down the stairs. “Excellent work, all! What a marvelous day it’s been despite it’s poor opening.”

Jon nodded with a smirk and said, “Okay, I need to pick up my gear. I’ll fill them in on the plan. Codsworth, if you could, pick up anything useful from these assholes, ammo, scratch, whatever medicine they have.”

Codsworth twirled his arms and said, “Of course, sir!”

Jon went back into the museum and heard Garvey lecturing Mamma Murphy on her chem use, and Mamma Murphy reminding him that she’s too old to care what he thinks, and will die in a year or two anyway from age. Jon smirked. He might need her services to get a start on his investigation.

Preston turned to him and said, “That was a pretty amazing display. I’m just glad you’re on our side.”

Jon said, “Feelings mutual. You’re a savant with that hunk of junk, no offense.”

He chuckled, “I mean it is held together with military duck tape. It’s seen me though some shit.”

Jon said, “I can see that. I’m taking that Deathclaw to Abernathy’s, and bring some produce and meat back. You guys get on the road when you can move. Codsworth and Jake will take you.”

He nodded, “Sounds good. Thanks man, really. I’ll tell you anything you want to know when you get back.”

Jon nodded and said, “Sturgis, you a tinkerer I take it?”

“Heey, that’s me hot rod. You want a once over on that suit?”

“You know it. Jake also has a gadget that will help get that place running. You’ll want to be there for that explanation.”

Preston asked, “You ain’t staying long?”

Jon said, “I’ll be making my home at the station for now. Until I figure out where I have to go.”

“Diamond city kid. That’s where everyone looking for something goes. I don’t even need the sight to tell you that. Find Nick.”

“Thanks Mamma Murphy.” Jon nodded. He considered his next steps as he retrieved his ruck, and any useful loot from the dead raider corpses.