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Chapter Text

"Watchers report approximately a dozen hostiles, ma'am." whispered the Courser, crouched behind the tree. "One entrance. Gen twos are in position. Explosive charges have been planted and are ready on your mark."

The tall, scarred woman readied her laser rifle and nodded. "Detonate."

The night shook as the bunker door was blown open by the powerful explosives. Paisley emerged from behind the tree and ran towards the smoking ruin of the entrance. Ahead of her, Gen 2 synths were already advancing down the stairs.

"Enemies of the Commonwealth." the synths called in their eerie mechanical voices. "Surrender now and you will be painlessly terminated." Just as Paisley reached the stairway, she heard a yell. "Ad Victoriam!" The hissing of laser fire started up, and she saw a gen two fall to the ground. Paisley cursed to herself. The stairway was a perfect chokepoint - if the Brotherhood was a little smarter they'd have installed turrets, but nonetheless it would be hard to advance. She crouched low and reached the bottom of the stairs. They were in what appeared to be a storage room, with shelves and tables, most of which were now overturned to provide cover for the Brotherhood soldiers. Paisley swiftly unhooked a plasma grenade from her belt and threw it towards the back left corner of the room. A Brotherhood soldier screamed and tried to move away, but was too slow to escape the energy blast. To her left, Paisley saw the gen twos advancing. She moved back into the stairway alcove and looked right, blasting any limb that the soldiers failed to hide. In her peripheral she saw the dark form of the Courser move forward with superhuman speed. He was behind the tables and shooting the soldiers before they even registered him.

In a few moments, the room was still. The few gen twos who had survived the battle turned to Paisley, as did the Courser. She looked around. There were two doorways. One appeared to lead to a dormitory area and the other curved into a hallway.

"X9-49, clear the dorm. Gen twos, with me." Paisley ordered. The androids formed up around her as they proceeded down the hallway.

Adrenaline buzzed in Paisley's veins. With the Institute decidedly uninterested in surface affairs, about the only excitement she got was from clearing out the odd Brotherhood and Railroad hideout. The Directorate always grumbled about her going on these missions, but she needed something to do apart from director paperwork and hunting Super Mutants.

Not like she had a lot of friends to pass the time with anymore... Fools couldn't see the bigger picture. Clinging to their ruins...

The hallway passed by bathrooms - no one inside - before ending in what appeared to be a laboratory. There, inside, was a massive, glowing and humming machine. It reminded Paisley of the molecular relay, only bigger... well, it also looked like it was cobbled together from junk. A trembling Scribe was standing with her hands up. "Don't shoot! Please!" she cried.

"Hold." Paisley ordered the synths. She pointed her gun at the Scribe. "Tell me everything about this bunker."

"W-we've been her since... since the Prydwen destruction. It was a supply post, originally, but we've just been living here... scavving. We considered trying to get back to the Capital Wasteland but we don't have a Vertibird or anything..." the woman said nervously.

"And this machine, what is it?"

"It's... it's a radio beacon." the Scribe stammered. "For extreme long range. We've been tr-trying to get a message back to the Citadel..."

Paisley narrowed her eyes. "You're lying." Nervousness makes it harder to tell, but the woman began fidgeting when she delivered that line. "Tell me or you die."

"I... uh..." the Scribe looked close to tears.

Suddenly, Paisley felt a hard shove on her back. She stumbled forward, hands outstretched, and twisted her head to see a wild-eyed Knight already being shot by the gen twos. Then she felt something cold on her head. She turned forward to see the suddenly hard-faced Scribe pressing some sort of metal tube against her. She opened her mouth but in a split second, the world went white.

It only took a few more seconds for the gen twos to kill the Scribe, but Paisley had disappeared.

Chapter Text

Paisley felt like she was falling down a deep hole. Her vision was pure white. Suddenly, she felt something cold under her. Cold and... wet? Paisley pushed herself up to discover that she was lying on snow. Snow?  She hadn't seen snow since before the war!

She got to her feet and was suddenly aware of how cold it is. Her armoured coat, a special design based off of the Courser uniform, wasn't designed for cold protection. The "nuclear summer" of the Commonwealth got rain, but not freezing. She shivered to herself.

Around her, she recognized the exterior of the Brotherhood bunker. She frowned to herself. Where am I? Is this a hallucination?

She surveyed her surroundings. Apart from the snow on the ground and the overcast sky, it all looked pretty much the same. In the distance, she could see a few figures. She began cautiously approaching them. Ferals. Their posture and gait were unmistakable. There looked to be about a dozen.

Suddenly, the feral ghouls turned and began running in another direction. In the distance, Paisley could see a fleeing figure. But the ghouls were faster.

Her combat training took over as she drew her laser rifle and dropped to a kneel. She shot three ferals with swift lasers. As the remaining ones turned, she saw the stranger draw a gun as well. The stranger shot a feral in the head, but missed a second. The ferals hesitated, confused as to the greater threat, and Paisley wasted no time felling the remaining ones. She stood up and approached the stranger.

He appeared to be wearing a dirty winter coat with a large backpack, a gas mask, and a scarf wrapped around his head. His rifle appeared to be in poor condition, with clearly visible duct-tape along the barrel. His posture was tense, gripping the rifle. Paisley kept hers drawn.

"I'm not going to kill you." She said firmly. "And that junk pipe gun couldn't kill me. Lower the weapon and we can talk."

The gas mask obscured the man's face, but she could tell he was deliberating. Finally, he lowered the weapon.

"You gonna kill me?" His voice was muffled and deep. "Just do it."

"No. Take off the gas mask and we can talk."

"Take off the mask?" The man replied. "Are you crazy? I'd become a mutie.. or die!"

"What do you mean?"

"The radiation! I don't know how you're immune to it, but it could kill me!"

"But there's no radstorm."

"Doesn't matter." the man rambled. "I know a guy with a Geiger counter. He showed me how you get slowly irradiated just from being on the surface." He glanced around. "Look, we're out in the open here. If you wanna talk, can we go somewhere secure... you can lead me at gunpoint or something."

Paisley jerked her head at the bunker. "In there. Nice and easy."

The man tried the bunker door. It opened. He descended the stairs. "We'll stay here." Paisley said, closing the door behind her. The man turned and removed his gas mask. His face was unkempt and haggard. Large brown eyes were trained on her gun.

"First things first. Where are we?"

"Uh... southwest of Boston." the man replied. "I don't exactly have a map..."

"And what were you doing out here?"

"Scavving."

"What did you mean about the constant radiation."

"Well, the fallout isn't... isn't fully settled. You can still get irradiated from the air up here. Just slower."

Fallout... not settled... wait.

"What year is it?"

The man looked confused. "2082."