Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

What if there was a place with all the ZIP of Nuka-Cola? Wouldn’t that be the cheer-cheer-cheeriest place in all the world? Quench your thirst for adventure at Nuka-World!

The day had started out with a musky feeling to it. Waking up with a crick in the neck due to tossing and turning weirdly in bed. Irritation due to having to head out first thing in the morning with the day’s temperature being an uncomfortable mix of hot and damp. And now, having arrived at the destination provided, the darkening sky was evidence that it was about to rain.

‘What a shit day.’ Thought Commander Kaylor as she and her team set about their assigned task. 

Two days ago, a transmission was relayed across the Commonwealth about a pre-war destination, its message clearly outdated. Sergeant Lanier, a fellow Gunner and close friend, had been investigating the area with her last report stating her squad would travel by way of the mountains. With their subsequent loss of communication and her war buddy’s expected line of thinking, it was obvious that something had happened to Lanier’s recon team and this transit station was to blame. As per Colonel Cypress’s orders, Kaylor had investigated the area as well as she could but found nothing or anyone out of the ordinary. Even still, she held off on using the monorail itself, as that led to unknown territory.

Lanier had her “hinky” feelings for a reason, and her own experience taught her not to leap before looking as well.

“No one investigates that signal until this place is secure. If I see anyone violate protocol and enter that station before we’re set, I’ll have your head. Now pick up the pace, I want to be able to report back to Cypress-”

“Commander!” One of the conscripts interrupted right as she was about to finish. “Someone’s coming!” 

‘What the hell is the Sergeant doing?’ That was her thought as she turned to look, eager to bark some sense into the idiot who let someone though. Though hopefully there’d be a firefight, it’ll be good to pass the time. However… 

Standing at the transit center’s entrance just a few feet away from them was a hulking figure, but it was not muscle that made up the mass, but power armor. Power armor of which was very clearly customized in brutal fashion. What seemed to be an animal’s skull was affixed to the left shoulder, with what appeared to be the bony claws of a vicious beast affixed to the left gauntlet. Red cloth was draped over the shoulders and obscured the top part of the helmet, just enough for the darkness to elicit a measure of unease. When their head did look up, it was still dark enough that few features could be seen clearly but… the glow of yellow eyes was every bit terrifying in the rain that began to fall. 

‘Wait… are those teeth?’ She wondered, squinting her eyes as she saw something of the like underneath the hood.

Only then had she noticed the corpse held by the left hand, the metal fingers digging into the sergeant’s skull… the lower half of his body wasn’t even there anymore. With what was left of his entrails hanging, he was likely torn in half. And with the dimming light and power armor splattered with blood, she wouldn’t have noticed the symbol on the chest armor if it were any darker out. That her eyes managed to catch it… it gave her pause as her bravery wavered. 

‘There’s no way, no fucking way!’

“Surprise contact!” The assaultron was the first to act, rushing toward the newcomer with its eye charging up ahead of time. “Engaging!”

Kaylor’s instinct was to try to grab the robot’s shoulder and pull it back, but her terror had her frozen on the spot. Were it not for the chest armor’s symbol, she would have stood her ground. Now? After nearly a decade, she hoped death would have claimed them. 

“Open fire!” Someone yelled. 

She wasn’t sure who yelled that order, but action had to be taken as the assaultron was torn apart by the one she never hoped to see again. It took seconds for it to lose its advantage, those vicious claws protracting from the metal as they swiped at the machine, tearing off an arm. Then, the power armor quickly brought out what seemed to be a sword of fire, swinging it at the other arm and kicking one of its legs out. The repurposed robot attempted to turn its body upward to fire its laser but was stopped when the sword was plunged into its head, the red light of its powerful energy weapon sparking everywhere in a final show.

In the end, she wasn’t sure how long the ensuing firefight lasted. It felt like an instant as it was all a blur, she wasn’t even sure if she landed a hit on the surprisingly nimble enemy. So there she was, trudging against the wall toward the underground station that led to the monorail, her blood lining the structure as she struggled along. Her men were all dead, she’s all that’s left. If she could just make it inside-

One of her Gunners fell to the ground from above, still alive despite the fact that the impact broke a few bones. The power armored assailant landed on top of him two seconds later, feet first from the building above with a disgusting splatter down below, the jetpack attached to its back still smoking from use. The skull on the left shoulder was now clearly visible, the horns indicating that it once belonged to a deathclaw, and it only made sense that the left gauntlet’s claws were of the same beast that decorated the armor. On the right shoulder, two pauldrons of gold and black metal adorned the frame underneath, one on top of the other’s end in a segmented fashion with a single curved spike for each one. What seemed to be black leather was wrapped around the waist of the power armor, with a symbol on the back depicting thirteen stars in a blue circle with five vertical red stripes below that. 

‘A US Flag?’ Kaylor thought to herself.

Slowly it turned around to regard her with those baleful yellow eyes, the helmet being revealed to be the skull of a totally different beast. A Sabertooth, both the calvaria and jaw of the skull intact with the voice box sticking out of the hole where the creature’s nose would’ve been. Then there was the symbol on the T-45 chest armor, a symbol of which there was no mistaking at this proximity. Kaylor raised her combat rifle to fire at her enemy but was too late as a metal hand pushed it upward right as it fired. The gun was then wrenched from her tired grip before being swung down at her head, tossed aside as the hand grabbed Kaylor by the neck and hoisted her up. 

“You remember me, don’t you?” The yellow eyes of death stared back at Kaylor's fearful ones, who struggled to free herself in vain as she squeezed and punched at the metal holding her. “I remember you… you’re the last one.”

The armor’s other hand rose as it pulled back the red hood to reveal the skull in its entirety, albeit modified as black pumps exited protruded from four different points and trailed to the back. Two large ones on their right side and two smaller ones on the left, of which they jostled when those hands moved to disconnect the helmet from the rest of the body. The yellow eyes turned off once this happened, and then… 

Even with the light dimmed by the absence of the gear and the heavy rain casting a darkness over everything, Kaylor could still see who it was. Where once a beautiful face etched with determination was seen, now there were only scars, scorch marks, and a grim countenance. The years have not been kind to her, but that would be a lie. They have not been kind to her. Nor to her companions. Nor to the goodwill she once offered to them. 

‘It IS her!’

“Running scared, your feet carried you this far… I suppose it’s only right,” The woman says cooly, as if thinking back on the past. “That scum fall in with scum in the end.”

The Gunner Commander grits her teeth and tries to speak. Willing to indulge the wannabe soldier, the Ghost of The Capital brought her closer to hear her out. To which Kaylor’s lips pursed and… spat upon the marred half of the face of the woman who once saved her. 

A smile crept from the right side of her face, the one untouched by the cruelty of this world. There was an eye on that side that was of a wholly different color than that of blue, a color she most certainly did not have all those years ago. The eye of a purple color so bright that it actually seemed to pulse in response, as if in amusement. It was unsettling to see something like that in this person.

“Did that soothe your shame?” She asks the Gunner. Her voice is brutally gentle. Almost… kind. “That little surge of spite. That little act of defiance. Did it ease your shame at dying with your duty undone? Did it avenge the dozens of people that you were supposed to protect, picked off by super mutants and slain by Deathclaws? Did it vindicate your failure to kill me?”

Kaylor spits again, this time into the unmarred half of the face. The woman smiles widely as the liquid trickles down her cheek. The Commander's defiance is clear, but she is playing proud to the wrong audience. 

“Once,” She tells the Gunner as she puts the skull helmet back on, the intake of air being heard as it resealed the armor. “We were protectors. Not simply technocratic scavengers. Paragons. Not simply a story told of in spite. Heroes.”

The long canines of the beast glistened in the rain before the hood was pulled back over. For a moment, her foe looks all the more frightening as she can’t help but feel the skull’s teeth would open up and tear into her. Then, the sound of a chainsaw was heard from below as Kaylor’s dart down to see a wicked sword of fire and rotating metal teeth. Then they look above that, at the symbol painted on the chest armor, the last thing she will ever see. Of a winged sword, with a beast baring its claws in the center. 

“Now die like scum.”

Hiya kids! Remember, Nuka-World is only open for a few more weeks in October! Come down and see me and Cappy one last time before buckling down for the winter. Don’t forget to bring your empty bottle of Nuka-Cola to get 15 dollars off at the gate! So hop aboard the Nuka-Express and come and see the whole Nuka family while you still can!

“Jesus. Shit… they’re gonna die.”

One man was sitting against rubble on the ground, one hand clutching his stomach. An ordinary man who, once, she would have moved to assist. Once. There were many lessons which taught her that even ordinary folks were capable of sinister deception for their own reasons. More than one sign pointed to this being some kind of ruse, and there wasn’t a charitable sort inside the power armor anymore. 

A lack of blood, on both the shirt and ground. A lack of sweat from the pain. Terrible acting, there was not enough feeling in it. And then there’s the Gunners, she’d overheard that they’d been in the midst of securing the site, so how could they not have seen this man? He had to have realized they weren’t a threat anymore and come out of hiding. Too many things to take account of, many a possibility of death. 

Too many to care for… but his acting does provide a good alternative to the real thing, wouldn’t you agree?  

No. But the question is… 

“What are you doing?” She asks the man, who jolts at the sight of her appearance. That was genuine surprise for sure. She didn’t know she was that quiet, but then again he must not have expected someone like her to appear.

“Shit, you scared me… I- hah! I tried to get them out but… they got me…” He huffed, swallowing before continuing. “Lisa and… and Cody… raiders have them.”

“Friends?” 

“Wife and son,” He answered quickly, “I have to get back… but I can’t… I’ve been shot just trying to get out with them.” 

Ahh… I’m bored now.

“I see,” The power armored individual simply said before grabbing a fistful of the man’s hair and yanking him up, eliciting a yelp of pain from him. “Now you’ll speak the truth. Your wounds are not real, else you’d still hold on to your guts.”

“Okay okay! Listen, I’m just bait! Okay!? This train gets you to Nuka World, but- aargh! Raiders! They own the place!”

There was a part of her that was now howling with pleasure at the genuine fear and pain of the man. A part of her that she didn’t really agree with, nor wanted in the first place. She didn’t let it affect what she exhibited though, she hasn’t for a long, long time. She partly can’t, but that’s not a very funny joke. 

He was held up like that for a moment longer, the yellow lenses of the skull helmet boring a hole into him. He was dropped soon after, falling on his ass as he clutched at his head. The skull of the power armor looked down at him in silence.

 “Please, just… I do have a family… they’re just… they’re not raiders. We tried to fight back… god, we tried…” The man sobbed.

“Run.” Came the simple response. 

“W-what?”

“RUN!” Came the booming response. “This isn’t even the first time you’ve done this, right?”

The man nodded reluctantly. 

“Then run, or I’ll make sure you don’t ever again,” The skull looked toward the monorail. “Find someone, or something. And stay there.”

The Nuka Express is accessible through the Nuka World Transit Center. Parking fees will apply. Prices subject to change due to end of season. Nuka-World, Nuka-Express, and the Nuka-Cola characters are all registered trademarks of the Nuka-Cola Corporation.

“Hello and on behalf of the Nuka-Cola Corporation, we’d like to welcome each and every one of you aboard the Nuka-Express Monorail! For your own safety, please remain seated or utilize the provided handrails while the train is in motion. If you’ll direct your attention to the right side of the monorail, you can observe Nuka-World’s famous Fizztop Mountain. Standing at over 100 meters tall, Fizztop Mountain is the largest man-made structure in Nuka World, and features the five-star Fizztop Grille.”

The power-armored individual paid no mind to the pre-recorded message that likely greeted all its occupants from the past, present, and the likely future. Beneath the tattered red hood that was draped over the shoulders and enveloped the top part of the custom helmet, their attention was instead idly spared on the landscape below. Though it was certainly as dreary as every other place they’d been to, the expanse and occasional sign of human civilization did put to wonder what the world must have been like back then. There were the stories, but to actually be there and understand that this world would have been unbelievable in return… 

“Coming up is the heart of Nuka-World, Nuka-Town U.S.A., feat-” The static that followed was to be expected, but it was the next voice that caused a turn of the head to the overhead intercom.

Right as a tree littered with cages and hanging bodies passed by. The modern welcome sign it seemed. 

“Well look who learned the truth and still showed up. I guess Harvey played his cards right after all. I only got a minute so you better listen and listen good. The name’s Gage. Porter Gage. And our mutual friend Harvey only told you half the truth. You’re still walking into a death trap.” 

Well at least he was honest about this exchange. 

“But if you make it through alive, I have an interesting offer for you. In the meantime, have fun and put on a good show. I’ll be watching.”

And with that, static filled the intercom as the prerecorded message continued.

“We are now arriving at the station. Please be sure to collect any children and personal belongings before exiting the Nuka-Express.”

It was not three seconds after she stepped out of the monorail that a new voice spoke up. This was, admittedly, getting annoying. Not being able to see who she was talking to, or who was talking to her, was not in her book of favorite things. Certainly, this was a little hypocritical considering she was wearing power armor, but she was actually present within it. Did that make sense?

It does, little teddybear.

“-avorite undesirables out there. In case you haven’t noticed, looks like we got ourselves some fresh meat to run the Gauntlet!”

Before she realized it, she had gone down some stairs and walked right into this “Gauntlet’s” first obstacle. The sound of turrets catching sight of hostile armor gave her a second to get into cover before the room was lit up with bullets and laser fire. Seven turrets, all expertly placed in areas that would make it hard to pinpoint and strike at the same time. The assault rifle would be quick to pick them off but they all fired at the same time. VATS would be key here, and the T-60 set of legs she had would help in being faster than her foe’s targeting system. 

 At the same time however, there had to be more to this Gauntlet. Power armor was not invincible… nor did it save Gallows. 

“…”  

Well then, time to get started.

(Play Marianne Faithful’s “Broken English”)

To those watching the undertaking of the Gauntlet, a variety of reactions were had from idly watching the television screens connected to the live feed. With how little action there had been in Nuka World for little over a year, this was one of the few sources of entertainment one could get in the shaky pact between the three raider gangs. Even then, interest had waned as fewer still managed to make it all the way through to the final act. Their Overboss, Colter, simply didn’t allow it.

Which is why interest slowly returned as people bore witness to how fast the murder death kill course was being cleared. Even with power armor, one could see that the latest entry was different somehow, and one raider gang, the Operators, noticed this with increasing attention. The proficiency with firearms was not something that escaped their attention after all. The first section had been cleared with such speed that it was almost as though they weren’t wearing armor to begin with. Snapping shots like one would a camera, if most folks nowadays even knew what those were for. 

“So fast!” One such gang member yelled. 

“Who is this vic!?” Another was practically on the edge of her seat. 

“I set up those turret positions, what the fuck?” Some were less enthusiastic about this, all their hard work being destroyed so easily.  

“They got a knack for guns, I’ll tell you that…” William Black noted, the bearded man idly drank from a liquor bottle. “What do you think, Mags?”

Mags Black, leader of the Operators, was silent as she merely watched the show. Even as the latest contestant tore into the following points like an animal, her gaze was impassive. Unresponsive to everything, even as her underlings grew more uncharacteristically rowdy, she kept a half-lidded gaze on the fighter. A gaze that grew wide-eyed for a few seconds when she noticed the symbol on the chest armor.

A symbol she had read about in only one other case. This warranted her attention, IF Gage’s plan worked that is.

“Haha! Get in there, sucker. Hope they don’t forget to feed the mirelurks!”

The Pack danced and bayed as Deatharm, the name that the gangs seemed to unanimously agree on for this newcomer, tore into the mirelurks with such ferocity that they won them over almost instantly in the betting pool. Much like an actual animal, they used everything they had at their disposal when the weapons on hand didn’t cut it. Mirelurks could be intelligent, thus when they used their shells to block against that chainsword and guns couldn’t be targeted in time with the small space they were in, they quickly swarmed the vic. One of them managed to grab at the assault rifle in the attack, crushing the barrel with its claws as it tried to fire one last time before exploding. That was when they took some of their own medicine. 

The lack of hesitation to the sudden change in a situation was what really earned the vic some cheering, tossing the useless weapon aside and resorting to metal fists instead. The punches delivered had to have had the force of a super mutant behemoth punching a deathclaw, what with the caved in faces and crippled limbs of the crab people. Even better still, one limping mirelurk - the same one that destroyed the assault rifle - that had managed to escape suddenly found itself at the mercy of the contestant, the metal hands reaching out from behind and gripping the edges of the shell before pulling hard. The creature shrieked as its outer shell was viciously ripped out from its back, the mutated crab tumbling forward before being stomped into paste below its enemy. 

“SHE FIGHTS LIKE AN ANIMAL!” 

“MASON, YOU SEEIN’ THIS SHIT!?”

“WE’RE SO FUCKIN’ BACK!”

Mason, the leader of The Pack, sat at his throne as he listened to the radio beside him. His trusty Problem Solver sat forgotten on his lap as he listened with rapt attention. His gang grew louder as they too tuned in to the current vic’s Gauntlet undertaking, but he tuned them out as Redeye’s describing of events grew more excited. Whoever this fresh meat was, they had the marks of a beast on the hunt. Apparently they even had deathclaw gear, and that brought a wide smile to his face. Bones brought out the primal in animals, in humans. 

Bones were a representation of death. No greater fear than that existed. It reminded one that they were all still animals deep inside. 

“Goddamn, look who’s in the homestretch! Time for a little audience participation!”

This next section was more troublesome than the last, partly due to all the traps laid out in the path. The biggest problem were the raiders that fired at Deatharm from above, not to mention that they came prepared to deal damage against power armor. Even still, these raiders were not unlike their brethren across all wastelands, and while they were quick on their feet and trigger happy, they were still bound to make mistakes. One such case was a member of the Pack who managed to hit a critical point in the armor, staggering the lucky vic as they fell to a knee. The masked raider, so quick to relish in the small victory over the victim, gloated as they got down on all fours and yelled a plethora of insults. So slow to realize there was no harm, merely superficial damage as the vic rose back up with such speed that the raider couldn’t react in time, with a metal hand grabbing at their head along with the metal fence. 

The Disciples at their abode in Fizztop Mountain watched the brutal display by television as the Pack member was pulled through the opening, metal stabbing into skin while they tried to escape the grip. There was a mixture of awe and excitement as the vic slammed their quarry on the ground and raised a metal boot over the head and simply… crushed it. The splash that sprayed the walls was almost instantaneous in its effect when a good portion of the Disciples were deafening in their own right, with the other two factions’ raiders in the section wisely backing off even as the vic goaded them. Their leader and her lieutenants were more reserved in their reactions, but it was no less interested in the subject matter. 

Nisha, the leader, hummed softly as she idly twirled a knife in the air. With her sight purposefully obscured by her helmet, she instead listened to everything. The gang exclaiming their excitement, the distant television broadcasting the live feed, and the radio with Redeye being an annoying shit as usual. 

“...” Savoy, the quiet enforcer of the gang, said nothing as he just looked up at the screen above him. Which was strange as he usually said something. Like a simple one or two syllable response or even just one sentence. He didn’t even react as the third member of their inner circle danced in place, occasionally bumping into him and pulling at him to dance along with her. 

“I like the way they move… how they cut… what do you think is under that bucket of bolts, Nisha?” Dixie hummed an old world tune before continuing.  “Maybe they’re really just a bonehead?”

“You’ve never shown interest in anyone coming through with power armor, Dixie. They always die anyway…” Nisha turned her head in the young woman’s direction, “What’s this sudden change in attitude?”

Dixie was at Nisha’s side so quickly that it was almost frightening, her one eye and smile visible through the holes in the mask positively beaming with joy. Not many could just waltz on up to the leader so carefree and not leave without a wound… or even alive. 

“You been keepin’ your head under that helmet so long, you ain’t taken a look at the tube… Just listen to how creative they are with that suit of armor, Nisha! Everything's meant to kill in some way!”

“Just killing… no hesitation with guns.” Savoy finally commented. 

Dixie grabs the radio and pushes it against the side of her head, fingers straining on the material as though struggling to keep it there. There’s a mad look in her dark gray eye that wasn’t usually there. The gap for her mouth showed her teeth were clenched so hard that they bit into one side of her lips, drawing blood without a care. 

“I wanna know more…” Dixie moaned, her breath misting in the light. “They paint so well… who’s the artist underneath?”

Nisha regarded her more bloodthirsty lieutenant for a moment longer before silently taking back the radio from her. Savoy turned his attention away from the overhead television to look at her, his stone-faced expression asking a silent question. At his side however, his fingers hovered over his favorite knife stowed in a pocket.

“I suppose it’d be worth looking into…” Nisha muttered. “Maybe Gage’s wager will work after all.”

Just then, Redeye spoke with a hint of what seemed to be awe in his voice.

“Well I’ll fuckin’ be… they made it in record time…” Redeye’s pause was deafening until he swallowed audibly. “Get over to Cola-Cars, and watch Colter crush our latest vic! Unless you don’t like fun… and who here in Nuka-World doesn’t like fun?”

There was pure silence in the mountain’s interior at that. Nobody said anything, nobody did anything. Savoy was already gone by the time anyone noticed. And Dixie? Dixie was on her knees before Nisha, hands on her legs as she looked up at her. 

“Nisha…” Dixie whispered. “Let’s go to the arena.”

(End track)

Here they were again. It was sudden but not unexpected that someone would come through the Gauntlet again. Winning was never a part of the deal though, it was impossible to do so. This death course was a combined effort of all the gangs coming together- for once, to make something worthy of the Nuka World Raiders’ name. And at the end of it all? 

Situated in a moderately sized space with old-world vehicles with poles connecting to the ceiling above, two people stood in the center. The Overboss of Nuka World and his second-in-command, Colter and Porter Gage respectively. Colter himself was inside of his own suit of power armor, and a wicked custom job at that. With how much armor was added to the frame underneath, especially on the front, it almost looked like a headless behemoth. That wasn’t even taking into account the special advantage the Overboss had once he was in the arena.

Down here in the Cola-cars arena, the Overboss’ power armor would be connected to a pole generating electricity. Much in the same way that these same poles were connected to the Cola-cars that were scattered about the former amusement ride, the electrical port connected to the back allowed it to be powered for functionality. But the unfair advantage was that while the power armor could function just as well as it could if they had access to more fusion cores, it also generated a specialized shield of electricity that rendered most attacks ineffective. With this at the big guy’s disposal, none of the other gangs in this alliance dared to make a move against him. In fact, this technological masterpiece was Colter’s vision, his greatest achievement in all the time they were here, his effort in making this impressive piece of armor which instead have been put to better use in taking over the rest of the fucking park. 

Sure he put on a good show murdering the shit out of people, but at what cost? Lazing back after he thought they did good enough just getting here to Nuka-Town USA, this alliance of raiders turned into a powder keg of violence that threatened to destroy itself. These were the thoughts of the second-in-command, Porter Gage, who, while he wasn’t one to toot his own horn, was the one who originally got Colter in this position. It was because of him that the Overboss was this well off in the first place, sitting up on his kingdom’s throne in that mountain. Raiders weren’t made to just sit around and wait for god knows what, they were supposed to keep going even after they had it all! 

For fucks’ sake, the Fizztop Grille was built right into Fizztop Mountain! The Disciples-!

“You got me wired up yet, Gage?” Colter interrupted his second in command’s line of thinking.

“Yeah, boss.” 

“Finally,” Colter huffed before shooing him away, “Now, go shut off that damn alarm.” 

“Alright, I’m on it.” Porter replied, trying not to let his frustration show at this stage of the plan.

As soon as he stepped away, Porter caught their new arrival staring down at them from where victims would come in to see what was next. The televisions and Redeye’s descriptions over the radio didn’t do it justice, that power armor was… well how the fuck does anyone describe that shit? The craftsmanship could give Colter a run for his money! If death had a face, that would be it right there… 

The raider smiled at that. Even if this didn’t work, this might be the best show yet. 

“Hmph… now where…” The power armored raider boss wondered aloud, turning to look up. “Ahh… there’s my next victim now. Heh. Don’t look like much.”

They remained silent atop the metal walkway, staring down at him. That was certainly an intimidation tactic, but it wasn’t the first time he’d gone up against someone who thought to do that. There’d been power armored blokes before, some who thought they had a chance, more so than others. Hell, a few had gone against him without a metal suit with that same thought process. They all ended up the same regardless, smashed to mush and gear sold or repurposed.  

“Here’s a quick rundown of how this works. You go stock up, make yourself presentable, and then we’re gonna give these folks a show. A show where I decorate these walls here with your lovely brains. Thanks to this suit, I’m the only one that wins this fight. Period.”

Once more, silence. Not even a twitch. Good, this one’s got grit. 

“You think that power armor will do you any good? Think again. Think you’re hot shit getting this far? Heh, think again .”

This time, there was a response. The metal bloke raised a fist and tapped their chest armor, loud enough that the thumping could be heard. That was interesting… he tapped at his own chest in response with a laugh. This was good! Very good! Both sides were ready for a good time!

“Alright, Gage. Let ‘em through. Something tells me I’m really gonna enjoy this.”

“Speak, if you have anything to say worth listening.”

“I’m the guy that’s gonna get you out of this alive, so listen up.” 

“If this is a trick, nothing’s stopping me after I kill your boss.” 

“Now now, we don’t work like that. Both of us reap the rewards if you pull this off.”

…

“Look… you made it this far, you obviously got skill, and that power armor’s no joke. But this fight coming up is rigged. You get me? Overboss Colter… his own power armor’s set up to draw energy from the electrical grid in the arena. Damn thing’s invincible. You name it, someone’s tried it - miniguns, grenades. Not a scratch. You get what I’m saying?”

“Is there a pit stop between now and the fucking point?”

“You bet your metal ass there is. You wanna win? Check the lockers.” 

…

“A toy.”

“Eeyup.”

“Are you- wait. Thirst Zapper… this shoots water then?”

“Got in one.”

“Yes… if I hit the electrically-charged power armor, a short circuit should occur. Defense will be down… but for how long? Assuming they have a generator somewhere in here, as well as backups… what to use then…”

“If you’re done talking to yourself, I’ll be opening the door. See you on the other side.”

“Remember what I said.” 

“Right right. Hey, wait!”

…

“You got a name? We got a betting pool and I gotta know who I’m going all in for.”

…

“Damn, already g-”

“Call me Sarah. Sarah Lyons.”

Ultimately, she decided on going in without guns. She decided that if she really wanted to hurt that armor, she would do it up close. And besides, one of her favorite guns was destroyed by mirelurks, so if she was going to have something destroyed it would be something that did it in return. A variant of the Shishkebab that she’d modified to have the rotating teeth of a chainsaw, and a Super Sledge, maintained whenever she had the chance. The wonders of a Pip-boy, which, though they couldn’t store everything into holographic storage, could still bring out necessities on the fly. 

“ALRIGHT! DISCIPLES, ARE YOU READY FOR BLOOD!?”

“DEATH! DEATH! Dea…”

… 

“Hello?” The voice startled her, it sounded so close. Not like the other tenant in the noggin. “Where are you?”

“Ahh…” She closed her eyes and prepared herself.

“Where are you, Miss Sarah?” 

“Sentinel Sarah Lyons.”

“You. I know you can hear me.”

“Why have you… done this? Centuries of preparation… so much good, undone…”

…

Here they come again. Worming their way into the black matter of my brain. I often ask if you can hear them. But only the ghosts of the past answer. I am alone in their haunting. 

“Why didn’t you come back, Sarah?”

“Where is the Elder!?”

“She promised… why isn’t she…”

“When you die, Courier… I’ll be waiting. Your grave’s going to look just like this vault.”

I tell myself… they cannot touch me… they are long dead.

“-ready to see me notch-” 

“They died because of you, Courier.”

“May there be… a hell… for you… a Tarturus… bleak, unending…” 

“When you die… I’ll be waiting here… at the Sierra Madre. Waiting.”

I am the one who runs from both the living and the dead, hunted by scavengers, haunted by those I could not protect.

Knight Captain Gallows stood above her, armor shredded and bloody. An arm was missing. His guts were spilling out. He… shakes his head down at her and just leaves.

So I exist in this wasteland. Wandering. A woman reduced to a single instinct… survival. 

“You got lives in you, hard to kill. Shouldn’t have left that place. Storm, bullets, sand and wind, yet still you walk. For now.”

She stands at the foot of The Divide. A place where possibility flourished. But no longer. A place she turned - “cracked the landscape” - into what - “a graveyard” - it was even now. Her fault. It was her fault. Why had she run? 

“WHY DID YOU RUN!?”

…

“The Grim Reaper won’t come for you when you’re ready, Sarah.” Joshua. The Burned Man’s voice brought her out of hell. Something he once told her that comforted her in her darkest moments, oddly enough.

“I know.” She said to no one. Nobody responded to that.

“And you,” A familiar voice spoke, his voice clearly audible. “Are you ready to die?”

Colter. Colter! Nuka-World! Yes! Of course, she was here now. This was real. This was a place she could move in. And there was an enemy she could fight. 

Are you back, my darling teddybear?

Stepping into the arena was my answer.

She let the hammer hang from her grip as it trailed behind, kicking up sparks from the ground. The Shishkebab growled as its wielder circled the Overboss, the raider boss doing the same as he kept his weapon trained on her. An observant foe as he hadn’t fired his weapon yet, a weapon she grew to like in the years that she found one, a combat rifle. 

“Like two wild animals fighting for dominance!” The announcer declared overhead. “Bet you the Pack likes this!” 

It was ultimately the raider who attacked first, shooting at her as she sidestepped the first shots and let her armor take the next. She stabbed the Shishkebab at his shoulder, feeling the resistance of energy push the blade back with ample force before any real injury could be struck. Another sidestep as soon as he locked in and she swung down the super sledgehammer on the frontal dome, where again there was little effect but an impact was noticed. Looks like she’d have to use her latest acquisition after all… 

She ducked behind a bumper car and took note of the situation. There were many places she could pop out of and land a few hits, but she was very low on ammunition and it was time consuming to bring out another gun. Not to mention the durability of the armor, it was something that was expected to have been prepared against ballistics or energy. So the unexpected would have to suffice in the face of such defense. Speaking of, she quickly threw the Shishkebab out one side of her temporary shield, drawing Colter’s attention as he actually fired in the direction of the noise it made. Bringing out the Thirst Zapper, she tightened her grip on the kinetic hammer and popped out the opposite way she threw her sword, shooting the water gun at the raider’s back. 

The effect was almost immediate. A pulse of energy burst outward before dying out, with Colter standing motionless for a second before he realized what happened. So caught up in surprise was he that he didn’t notice his opponent until it was too late. 

“Goddamnit… what the f-” He was cut off as he was sent tumbling forward to a knee by Sarah’s ramming her right shoulder into him. 

The shoulder spikes had enough durability to dent the armor, but it was not enough to truly damage it. So she rushed and slammed the super sledge down at his back, earning a few pieces flying outward and a gasp of pain. She’d been quick to deliver another swing, but so was he, turning as he saw the blow come in time and bringing up an arm to block it at the pole. He fired his rifle at her chest but she’d grabbed at it with her hand as the bullets became muffled, crushing it before ripping the remains away. The time it took to do so had been a mistake however, for Colter had another weapon.

Sarah felt her breakfast threaten to spill out as the Overboss delivered a punch to her stomach, empowered by a power fist attached to the hand holding the combat rifle. He pushed away the hammer with his other hand as he quickly set about punching at her armor, setting her on the defensive with his moderately fast strikes. He too, however, was eager to finish this, so when he swung an uppercut and she stopped it with the head of the hammer hitting the fist, she readied her other weapon. The bones quickly protracting from her forearm, she shot her arm down as the bones of a deathclaw sliced at the shoulder armor and left the scars of one on the metal. Colter grunted as he stepped back before Sarah rammed into him again, this time against her left shoulder, where the deathclaw skull’s horns stabbed the metal dome covering his front. 

It wasn’t enough to pierce through the armor though, so he pushed her off him with ample strength in those arms. And in that moment of recovery, with both hands gripping the super sledge, Sarah raised the hammer and swung down. Colter crossed both of his arms to protect against the blow and… she swore she heard him chuckle. 

The electrical current that blasted outward was enough to push her back so hard that the hammer practically ripped Sarah away. Her arms roared with pain as the muscles tore themselves. The hammer had been blasted away with such force that she could barely hold it in the surprise, the metal slamming into the ground hard enough to dig into it. Colter clenched his fists and roared as the electricity surged around him in its entirety now, the glare of his helmet behind the metal protection seemed to glow in response as well.

This was truly a raider worthy of his position, a beast of a man. But that’s all he was. He was no Monster of the East, he did not need power armor. He was no Agent Cobalt, who had the element of surprise in all their encounters. He was just a dog. 

“HAHA! FUCK KINDA NAME IS SARAH LYONS ANYWAY!? YA MUM GIVE YOU A PLUSH OF A LION TOO!?” He yelled and punched at her head with the power fist right as she turned to him. “THAT WHY YOU GOT THAT SKULL ON YER HEAD!?” 

The force had been to make her stumble backward as the red cloth flew backward and pieces of the skull fell everywhere. The crowd grew louder in their cheering. The announcer grew more unintelligible as he spouted whatever seemed to occur to him. And she? She straightened herself back up and regarded Colter. 

Letting everyone see part of the Enclave helmet beneath the sabertooth skull. The X-01’s eye sticking out the right side quickly becoming a subject of discussion with the audience. 

“What the hell kind of helmet is that!?” The announcer - she heard him call himself “Redeye” on occasion - questioned incredulously. “Forget Deatharm! That’s Deathbug right there!”

“MORE LIKE DEAD BUG WHEN I’M THROUGH WITH ‘EM!” Colter retorted as he squared his shoulders and advanced. “HAD ME ON THE WRINGER THERE FOR A BIT! BUT IT DON’T MATTER! I JUST HAVE TO BE FASTER THAN-!”

The Thirst Zapper’s water hit the armor again and dissipated the energy. Colter raged in response and charged at her, with Sarah breaking into a run as well. At that moment, she activated her jetpack as she bent forward slightly and was pushed faster, letting her grab the embedded super sledge in time. The speed at which she moved let her slide around the Overboss with a loud screech, the motion carrying into the tech hammer as she swung it at his side. 

A minute, teddybear. Just long enough for you to deal the final blow in time.

She swung her arm’s claws at him again, this time tearing away the metal covering at the front and exposing the armor beneath. More specifically, the helmet which darted to her, perhaps in some emotion as it was too quick. Fear? He was right to fear her. He never had any advantage, not when she was just testing the waters. So to speak.

He grunted as the hammer hit his arms, brought up again to hold back the attack. Still strong enough to send him skidding backward. He brought them down to see what she’d do next but was unprepared when she rushed him again, slamming the hammer into his helmet as he stepped backward. The glass was cracked as he looked at her balefully, the helmet dented to oblivion. The electrical energy pulsed as it began to return to the armor, Colter smashing his fists together. Sarah in return readied the Thirst Zapper and… clicked her tongue when barely a sprinkle came out. 

It was out of water. Fucking Gage. She heard him curse in his spot behind the glass. She was out of options if the power rebooted in full. She had to think… of course! 

 Colter yelled another obscenity at her as he approached, caught off guard when she grabbed something off the floor suddenly and twisted. He noticed too late that it was some sort of pole - no, that fire sword she had before! It was spinning through the air, the rotating teeth still turning as it flew higher. The electrical cable! If he could just-

The Dead Bug rushed him at that moment, Colter grabbing at one fist with his own and the super sledge with the other out of instinct. He bared his teeth as the energy returned at the right moment, electricity charging his gauntlets. The power he was given let him press on as he stepped forward and- 

‘What. Oh shit.’ He thought as he remembered what was thrown. He chanced a look up and saw that the cable had indeed been cut. The crowd had gone dead silent, to which not even Redeye was talking. He had to turn this back into his favor.

But Death- Dead Bug hadn’t let up. She was already moving again as she kneed him in the stomach, doubling him over before punching at his helmet. He’d retaliated with a quick set of punches, one harder than the other. And then she grabbed his left shoulder, refusing to let go even as he resorted to use of the power fist exclusively. 

It was when she twisted with him to the right, where everybody could see what was happening, that he realized she wasn’t going to let go. One final punch from the power fist and she began to squeeze the shoulder, the metal creaking with the frame underneath. When it sparked and fizzled, he struggled to raise his fist one more time when he finally felt it.

CRACK!

“AAAARGH!” He screamed as the bone was dislocated - perhaps broken - from its socket. When she finally let him go, it was to give him respite as he fell to his knees and clutched at the broken arm. He wasn’t even able to reach it properly due to the bulk of the power armor, but god fucking damn IT HURT.

When he looked up and saw the super sledge first, he knew he had to get up and-

The crowd was a mixture of reactions as Colter’s armored body flipped once through the air before falling. The helmet landed with a heavy sound a second later. 

“Holy shit…” That was Redeye.

She’d stepped forward to finish him off when she noticed the helmet on the ground. Picking it up on a whim, she inspected the quality before applying pressure. The glass cracking further in the action. 

“As I suspected…” The exterior caved in on itself. “Rudimentary.”

Something pleased her about his defiant face as she dropped the ruined helmet on the ground, the unceremonious clang establishing who the victor was. She reached back down and grabbed the Shishkebab to deal the finishing blow when she saw her father right in front of her. Her commanding officer and father. Elder Owen Lyons. He looked so disappointed.  

“Sarah? Is that you? I had such high hopes for you, child.” 

‘Father? ’ She almost asked that aloud, stupefied. Then she remembered and blinked herself back to the present.

The Shishkebab roared to life and she approached with a steady stride. Colter actually managed to sit himself up with the help of his one functional arm.

“Where were you?” 

“Help us!” 

“Where were you!?”

Super mutants laughed as they just killed. It was such a horrifying sound at that moment. 

“Stop running Sarah! Stop running!” 

The Outcasts stood before them, weapons ready to fire. They stood between her and her companions’ freedom. Gallows didn’t shoot first. Neither did the Lone Wanderer. 

“You think you can lead the Brotherhood of Steel!?”

“Kill her!”

“You let us die!” Gallows was in front of her again, jabbing a finger into her chest. 

“You promised you’d help us!”

She brought down the fire sword on Colter, the blades singing as the raider brought his arm up at the right moment. “FUCK YOU! I’M THE OVERBOSS OF NUKA WORLD! I AIN’T GOING DOWN TO SOME NOBODY!”

With a vicious sound escaping her, she pushed his arm down and sliced across the stomach area of the armor. It had less armor in that area, and so just enough blood had been spilled to let her know he’d pretty much had enough. Finally, she brought the chainsword down into the exposed gap, stabbing down into his chest as the metal teeth ripped and tore without distinction.

“EEARRRRRRGH!” Whatever sound had been dominating the Cola-cars arena before was drowned out by Colter’s final death throes. 

Everyone just watched. The Pack were as silent as mice for once. The Operators had little to say on the matter, some looking to Mags, unsettled by her foxlike smile. And the Disciples? A few were trembling in their seats, though the more seasoned members inched forward. One in particular was drawing a crude heart over the object of their fascination with what was likely blood.

With that, Colter’s body fell to the ground with an unceremonious clang of metal. The blood and gore leaking out of his wounds fit with the stunned silence of the crowd watching. Then… Deatharm turned to look at everyone. 

“Holy shit!” Redeye broke the silence. “I don’t… I don’t even know what this means! Colter, man, he’s out!”

“Sabertooth!” Someone yelled amidst the silence.

Sarah huffed in exhaustion. Her mouth felt dry. Her limbs hurt like hell. She even felt ready to pass out. She couldn’t afford to do that here though, not now. Looking to and fro, she saw a myriad of reactions. For one thing, one of the raiders was a little too close to the glass.

There was even an assortment of different sized markings on the glass, hearts she wagered. Both of her hands were pressed against the glass, and upon seeing she was being stared at, one of them tapped a finger at it. At her. That troubled her.

“Sabertooth!” The same voice yelled out, this time joined by at least two other folks. 

Such a fascinating show of expression from that one. Little detail is observed but… ahh, her breathing is misting on the glass.

“Gage, what the hell just happened?”

“Sabertooth!” More people had joined in now, with a whole section dedicated to the chant. 

Gage. Of course. The one who managed to help her. Where-

“You saw it!” His voice was heard quite clearly from his spot behind the glass. “We all saw it!” 

His next words were… well they were in a long line of things she hadn’t come to expect from today. 

“Colter’s dead!” Gage loudly proclaimed amidst the rising chorus. “We got ourselves a new Overboss!”

“Sabertooth!”

“SABERTOOTH!”

“SABERTOOTH!”

Fucking hell, she was tired.

End

Chapter Text

“Elder Lyons! Please reconsider! We cannot afford a strike at D.C. as of yet! This is abnormal behavior even for super mutants, we must consolidate our resources and gauge the enemy’s threat!”

“If we wait now, they’ll just make more of themselves! Vault 87’s been taken out and yet its clear that the muties are coming from somewhere else! They must have a stockpile of FEV in their strongest territory, and they’re not afraid to use as much as they can.”

“I think at the very least we should be cautious. Keep a few teams set up along checkpoints while we push through with a main force. Even if we do wait to strengthen our numbers and utilize our latest tech, they’ll just tough it out with numbers themselves.”

“It just might work… we might even be able to find the means to repair Liberty Prime.”

“Excellent. We kill two birds with one stone. We can’t let them push us against the wall or we might just get ourselves in a worse situation than we were in two years ago. We MUST strike now!”

- Elder Sarah Lyons, the Lone Wanderer, and Head Scribe Reginald Rothchild discussing plans for a D.C. strike, early 2279

“Welcome home, boss.”

Gage had to admit, he was prepared for a lot of things. Another vic slaughtered, Colter victorious when they died. Nisha coming to make due on her promise. Nuka-World descending into chaos from there. But not the new Overboss. 

For one thing, she didn’t talk the whole way to the Grille. At least, not to him. He hoped that she didn’t notice that he even heard her, though it was muffled for the most part. It seemed to be mostly clipped responses, and they didn’t sound like orders. Not to mention there weren’t any reports coming in for any outside groups moving in, not counting the Gunners already in the area. 

Nobody could fault him for being cautious however, it paid to be prepared for just about anything. Like the possibility of this endeavour failing spectacularly. Or this whole operation going to shit. Or worse, being stabbed in the back right when things were looking good. Or…

“Boss, if you don’t mind,” Gage started when they had stopped before the doors, the lift providing easy access to the top being right there. “I’d prefer not to break this thing. It took a lot of work getting it set up.”

The lift was a crappy thing, but it was a nice shortcut to the alternative of getting inside the building without going through the lobby, then the workshop, and then having to take a different lift from inside. It was lazy, but it made things faster. Then again, maybe that also played into Colter’s fate. Laziness leading to death. 

He really hoped the new boss didn’t overthink it, she did not seem the lazy type. Instead, that helmet just looked at him for a good while, unmoving as the raider started getting nervous. His eye trailed down to that claw gauntlet… and then it bobbed up and down slightly, its wearer heading through the doors, Gage letting out a sigh of relief as he went up the lift himself.

Now…

“The digs are yours now - hope you like the look. Colter had some peculiar tastes… but this view is something, huh?”

She merely watched the town below, probably taking in the view. From here, everyone looked like ants going about their business. Of course, there was always at least one person doing something that befitted an ant. Like the Operator that was always scrounging around in the pond below, most likely for caps. 

“Everything you see here is under your control, now that you’re in charge.”

“Why?”

For a moment, Gage didn’t answer and quirked an eyebrow. Then he seemed to understand what she meant.

“You may have noticed that our former Overboss, Colter, was a fuckin’ asshole. And that’s me being nice. Ended up being poison for this whole operation. Way I see it, surviving the Gauntlet means you got what it takes. Or at least the potential.”

The bone helmet turned his way. The raider adjutant tried not to flinch at how the eyes just watched him. Unblinking as they were however, he knew one side of the skull was broken off to show the metal helmet underneath. He’d never seen the model before, but it was ultimately a piece of tech. It wasn’t actually staring at him, it wasn’t alive. The person inside however…

‘Please say something.’ He wanted to say, instead, “For a good while now, we’ve needed someone who can get shit done. Make real progress.”

There was a hiss as the back of the power armor opened up, the person within stepping out with practiced ease. As she turned, he noticed that she wore metal armor of a sort, the kind he’d seen on a few Brotherhood soldiers. But as she approached, the second thing he noticed was how tall she was, still towering over Gage but now visible for everyone to see. Gage tried not to let his surprise show at the boss’ face but… his expression did betray what he thought. 

The whole left side of her face was scarred in some way, scarred to the point that part of her scalp had no hair. And she was even missing that side of her lips, her teeth permanently bared to the world. She had no left ear, instead it seemed to have been replaced by some sort of tech. Though her left eye still had what was left of an eyelid, the ghastly blue iris looked like it was always watching.

Then there was the right half, almost completely bare of any injury beside the general wear and tear of age and traveling. What was left of her blonde hair was swept over on that side, a ponytail messily tied together in the back. Her right eye was purple, not a color he’d seen on anyone before, and it almost seemed to shine as it looked at him, although the bag suggested she hadn’t slept in a long time. And then he noticed the lips on her right side quirk upward a bit, and he realized… that he’d been staring awkwardly at their new boss. 

“See something you like?” She simply asked.

“Fuck uh… sorry boss, didn’t mean to do that.”

“S’fine, you’ll just have to show me yours at some point.” She jerked her chin slightly at him. 

“Heh, this ain’t a contest I’ll tell you what.” Gage said, secretly hoping it wouldn’t come to that.

“I can tell there wouldn’t be much time for it,” The Overboss thankfully moved on fast enough. “How long have you all been waiting here?”

Gage sighed. He dreaded just having to answer that question. It was embarrassing for sure, but however she responded also put him on edge.

“Almost a year…” His voice was filled with resignation. “Might’ve been close to that actually.”

She turned away with a shake of her head, saying, “How have you not killed each other yet…” 

“Well there’s the Gauntlet, it managed to keep everyone in line for a while.”

She said nothing to that. 

“You know, I think I’ve heard of you…” Gage tapped his chin, squinting at the power armor. Specifically, the symbol on the chest. “You’re some kinda hero back west, aintcha?”

Her right eye looked at him as her voice dipped.

“I wasn’t aware news traveled this far out.”

Gage didn’t seem to notice the change as he just continued. Sarah’s left hand hovered the holster on her leg, the revolver’s handle close to her fingers.

“Like the wind. The Monster of the East was no joke, even out here.” The fingers stopped just short of holding. “Legion’s the reason many of us don’t head out that way.” 

Sarah simply grunted, looking at her armor’s hood and shoulder spikes. 

“Was,” She huffed. “I showed him a monster that wasn’t dead yet.”

Gage whistled, looking between her and the armor. Specifically the hood and shoulders. Once part of a butcher's symbol… 

“So, what’s the plan?” She asked the question he was waiting for. 

“Well first ya gotta meet the other bosses, after that we can talk more. Before that, you look like you could eat something.”

She chuckled, though her smile did not reach her tired eyes. The good side at least.

“If anyone’s out there… whoever’s leading these super mutants, its like… they flipped a switch. Every safe zone has been hit and I can’t raise anyone on any channel! We’re gathering survivors at Galaxy News Radio… they killed the Elder… they’re… they’re killing us!”

- Wayward Brotherhood radio broadcast from two days after the D.C. strike

The first place she visited was Fizztop Mountain, lair of the Disciples. From what she could tell even before getting inside the hollow artificial mountain, this group represented the worst aspects of raiders. 

Violence was one, and the outfits their members wore proved that. Hoods over their metal helmets that had holes for eyesight, and red markings of some purpose perhaps. Bits of metal armor were on their chests, arms, and legs, but never enough to encumber them. Enough to quietly move about, even as they began to surround the new Overboss as she entered the mountain. 

Once inside, it was not just the gas mask helmet that kept any outward reaction inside, but the years of being used to the horrors of what humans were capable of that kept any outward reaction from showing off the weakness she still had. Within, another aspect of raiders was shown clear as day: sadism. Blood was everywhere, and not a single inch wasn’t covered in it. Corpses decorated the ground floor, some were kept in cages hanging overhead, gore splayed out below them. 

And in front of Sarah…

“So you’re Gage’s little pet project,” the horned woman greeted with disinterest, “You don’t look so tall without your power armor.”

“Mm.”

She decided to come in her Ranger combat armor, a gift from her Mojave days. The only reason why she opted for no power armor was because her fight with Colter cost an entire fusion core, her last one to be exact. She’d grown used to moving without them, but it was still a pain to do so. There was one at the Grille, but it was wasteful to use now. She’d have to restock soon regardless, if this place had any that is. 

“I’m Nisha, I lead the Disciples.”  

“Sarah, Overboss.” 

The woman in front of her was similar to the rest of the Disciples, but the main difference was her helmet. Leaving only the lower half of her face visible, two metal horns jutting from the sides pointed downward. Likewise with the three metal pieces in front of her mouth, they seemed to form claws, or perhaps teeth were more accurate. 

“Not ‘Sarah Lyons’?”

“You didn’t give me your last name.”

“Don’t have one.”

“I see.”

“Good. Now that formalities are out of the way, we can get on with this meet and greet.” The horned woman spread her arms apart, knives in both of her hands. “All we want… All I want, is for blood to spill freely.”

Sarah noted how she stood in front of a metal structure that looked like jagged wings, coated with dried blood. Some of it was more recent, dripping on the floor. Bits of gore were stuck to the metal as well, reinforcing how this particular group seemed to operate on as much violence as possible for the sake of it. It was showcased all over the place even, from cages that held victims, alive or dead; to metal spikes that had impaled bodies. 

“As long as you don’t outright slaughter everyone in the park, we should be fine.” Sarah approached Nisha, not willing to let the woman believe the opportunity for senseless slaughter was now. “I happen to believe in the idea that people are a resource.”

That horned helmet tilted to the side as she considered the words.

“Blunt, but true. I think I’ll hold off on killing you in your sleep after all.”

“Just like that?”

“The Disciples don’t make empty threats, we make good on them.”

“Oh good, so do I!” Sarah almost cheered, holding out a hand as her voice lowered a pitch. “You’ll keep your gang on a leash, or you’ll be the first to go. I can tell a lot of your people want me dead even if I am Overboss.”

To her surprise, Nisha actually chuckled.

“Colter wouldn’t have dared. You might not be so bad after all… yes, I’ll spread the word. Though its not like it would have mattered much, the Disciples know to rein themselves in. You’re the Overboss now, it wouldn’t do any good if you croak now. We’ll give this alliance…” Nisha took the offered with her own and shook it. “One last shot.”

“That’s all I ask.” 

When she left, Savoy silently approached from the shadows. A quiet man, he only spoke when necessary. And that was very little. Still, Nisha learned to understand when he had something to say.

“Savoy?”

“She’s alright.”

“Dixie?” Nisha looked around, seeing no sign of the resident serial killer. “Where is that girl?”

Savoy huffed. 

“Overboss left an impression on her.”

“Elder Sarah Lyons is dead! The Citadel is overrun, getting it back now would be suicide! We need fresh voices. New leaders.”

“We don’t know that for sure, this is not the time for a coup!”

“And what is it time for? I don’t see the Outcasts helping us… I see our future on the horizon. It is bleak without direction.”

“...”

“Star Paladin Cross, the choice is simple! You know what you must do if we are to combat this threat properly.”

- Rothchild and Cross after the death of Elder Sarah Lyons

Upon entering the abode of the so-called Operators, Sarah immediately deduced this group was more about finesse than anything else. And as civilized as they looked, they still had the air of the den of snakes back at The Strip. The conversation her rabbit ear sensor picked up on was proof of that. 

“Sorry Mags, the only other info we got is she’s got that Pipboy on her arm.” A man’s calm voice said.

“Another piece of the puzzle obtained.” A woman replied, more suave.

Sarah ignored the other Operators even as a few greeted her, making her way to what appeared to be a dining room, a stage on the far end. The man who spoke did not appear to be of any note, dressed like the others. He was speaking to a tanned blond woman who stood next to another man, an adjutant?

“You don’t think she’s a Vault Dweller?” The lackey continued.

“She might have killed one…maybe…” The woman’s eyes trailed to her then, a smile caressing her lips. “You can go.”

The Operator turned to leave, but not before flinching at the sight of the new Overboss walking towards them. One quick look from her and he closed his mouth, intent on leaving her presence. No sooner had Sarah stopped before them that the two began analyzing her.

“Well, I suppose we all owe you for putting down Colter.” The woman started. 

“Man was an idiot,” The bearded man beside her quipped, “Made us all look bad.” 

“A clown stuck in his own little car,” The woman hummed, “I suppose then, that we can take some solace in the fact that someone finally gave him what he deserved. So I want to know,” She purred with a smile, “What did you feel when you did it? When you brought that walking pile of human garbage to his knees?”

It really was interesting to see how tensions were this bad. All the more intriguing on how the Disciples hadn’t been the first to crack. They were right next door.

“Not sure, its been a while since I fought someone as tough as him.” 

“If I had to say, you seemed… excited with how you fought. How you acted. Was it the same as with Caesar?"

Sarah fixed the apparent leader of the Operators with a hard stare. 

“You’re informed.” 

“Well, I try to be. You, Overboss, are an unknown quantity. And the Operators make a point of knowing who and what we’re dealing with.”

“So we’d like it if you answered the question.” The man beside her added.

“Yes. What went through you as you tore the life out of that oaf?” 

What did pass through her in that moment? She could not delude herself into thinking what was false. Why should she even answer to a raider? Well, this has been the first set of groups that hadn’t tried to kill her on sight so…

The truth then.

“You could say I was satisfied, not with killing him,” She paused, continuing before either could express discontent. “No, I was satisfied at going up against him, holding up, using what I had… satisfied at a good scrap.” 

“Interesting…” The woman slowly trailed a finger underneath her own chin.

“You did make a mess of him in the end.” The man added.

“Which is why we… I wonder,” The woman purred as her eyes trailed to the Pipboy. “A lot can happen in nine years…” 

At that moment, whatever changed in the atmosphere was enough to be felt by those around them. It started with one of the veterans of the group, an ace sniper known to have a sixth sense getting up from his seat and left the Parlor without a word, his friends confused at the departure. When they chanced a look behind them and saw that the conversation had turned to a quiet standoff, they too took no chances and instead sought another table near the entrance. Then another group did the same. And another. 

Only one group remained where they were, though they were behind a pillar, ready to spring into action and with two other pillars for defense. But even so, a standoff was not something one wanted to be caught in the middle of, not when it could devolve into a shootout. Yet it was the two bosses in particular that all were more wary of, especially the Overboss since everyone had seen and heard of her Gauntlet exploits. She wasn’t even in power armor and yet she loomed over Mags with a smoldering gaze. Mags on the other hand simply smiled, her eyes half-lidded at the attention of the lion in the room. When the silence was broken, it was like a pin dropped. 

“You won’t suggest such a thing again.”

“Hey!” The man barked. “You don’t get to talk to her that way.”

“It’s alright, William,” The leader of the Operators placated him, before gasping in mock surprise, a hand extending. “Ah! How rude of me, I’m Mags Black.”

She turned her head to the man, never taking her eyes off Sarah. “This is William Black.”

Sarah did not take the hand with her own, instead opting to leave the building. Her cloak billowed past her as she stormed to the doors, a few Operators moving out of the way with slow care. One had his drink taken by her and was about to say something when a sharp look stopped him in his tracks. 

“Get me everything you can on her from six years ago.” Mags said to William.

Information was harder to come by the further one traveled from home territory, even for the Operators. Information brokers could be bought even with how much influence the Black Family had in certain circles, and caps were sometimes outweighed by weaker human factors like one’s need to “do the right thing” when it occurred to them. 

The Ghost of The Capital. The Lion of The Wastes. Nightmare of The Legion. Courier Six. Woman of The West. Gjallarhorn. 

These were only a few of the names their beloved new Overboss had. And Mags knew them all.

“Sure, the super mutants are entrenched and pretty much impossible to dig out. But an alliance with Enclave remnants? Don’t pull my leg.”

- Brotherhood of Steel radio broadcast, late 2279

“ITS SABERTOOTH!” 

“SABERTOOTH!”

“RAAAAAHHH!”

That summarized the Pack well enough. That, and how they and their abode smelled like piss and shit.

“So you’re the beast underneath the shell?” The muscled clown’s eyes trailed up and down. “Now that I get a closer look at you… seems like you’d have stories to tell the youngsters.”

“Is that right?” The interest was a welcome change to the secrecy and urge to stab. “You’re a rowdy bunch… will you be a problem?”

“Slow down there, boss lady. Just getting to know you here. Name’s Mason.” 

The man was mostly muscle and paint, but she wasn’t about to let that complete her analysis. This group was all about the animal kingdom, though she didn’t recognize some of the creatures depicted in the masks they wore. They were certainly a colorful bunch however, and were as wild as the members of the animal kingdom. Unpredictable too…

“Would that include having someone follow me?” The muscular man blinked at the question. “It’s been subtle, but I pick up on things.”

“Got a nose on ya, huh?” Mason’s smile was wide underneath his curly mustache. “Nah, can’t be one of mine, you were pretty good out there for me to risk one of my trackers like that.”

The man was honest, she could appreciate that. 

“I get what you mean though, I smell blood.” He made a show of sniffing at the air. “Heh, fucking looneys.”

Sarah withheld asking who exactly that meant.

“Anyway, this here’s our side of town,” Mason leaned forward on his throne, “You might be Overboss - for now. But I’m the boss of the Pack. And its going to stay that way.”

“Message received.” 

“Well alright then!”

A shout and vicious growl brought her attention to the cage match behind her. A trader, a scrawny and feeble thing, was facing off against a black furred animal she’d never seen before.

“Maybe you are the real deal, but just remember…” Mason growled , “We all thought Colter was the real deal too, and he’s lying in a pool of his blood.”

The trader let out a final cry of pain before his head was smashed messily on the floor. The aforementioned humanoid atop beat its chest with a wild hoot of victory. The Pack members seated in the stands cheered and spilled whatever they had on hand as they forgot themselves in the primal celebration.

“We call that a Ghoulrilla by the way!”

“This maneuver Cross is proposing reminds me of when we’d been defending Jefferson Memorial, when Project Purity was in its infancy. Cross went on to escort the Lone Wanderer’s parents to Vault 101 when it became too costly. That’s what this whole operation reminds me of, on a much bigger scale. We can do this.” 

- Paladin Hoss, initial planning of Second D.C. Strike

Sarah stopped and looked behind, holding her stare for a few seconds. Her Rabbit Ear sensor had angled upward suddenly, picking up a sound she hadn’t heard before amidst all the background noise. She’d observed everything in her line of sight, but ultimately nothing was out of the ordinary. Or anyone. 

But she could feel it. The bloodlust in the air. Enough time spent wandering the wastes earned her the uncanny ability to know something was there even if it didn’t look like it. Nightstalkers for example, Sarah liked to think she gained a sixth sense for things that didn’t appear to be there at first. Most of the time, it turned out there was a presence waiting. Other times, it was just a radroach scavenging for food. 

Most of the time, it also happened to be that the other party was equally experienced and patient. So she continued on her way to the Grille, no other option available. Either they would give up playing this game, or they would follow. The bottle she had on hand wasn’t going to drink itself.

A moment later, the rhythm of footsteps was picked up from where she stopped.

“I want all Outcasts on our channels to know, we cannot allow Sarah Lyons to regroup with the the rest of the Loyalists. Enough time has passed that the Lyons’ Doctrine is unsteady in their troops, but I’m not taking any chances. Talon Company will assist us in this endeavor, and if they can take care of the Lone Wanderer as well, all the better.” 

- Protector Henry Casdin, scrambled broadcast within D.C. area

Her eyes opened up tiredly. She couldn’t sleep. Certainly not on the sweet comfort of a bed. 

So she got up with a sigh of frustration and walked over to the power armor she left standing underneath the room’s station, barely registering she was in just a bra and panties. She stopped suddenly, remembering the core was out of energy and there was only one left in the Grille. 

“Fuck.” 

She didn’t remember finishing the bottle she took earlier today, but she found a need to drink something else. It didn’t matter what. Strong or weak, so long as it gave her a modicum of comfort in her sore body. 

Looking back, it was only her strength that allowed for the armor’s movement for the past three days. And even before that, when she couldn’t just abandon the valuable technology and pressed on for years. Suppressing her irritation, she donned her Ranger armor. It was not as durable as metal, but it was better than nothing. She hated being exposed.

Gage was still asleep on his claimed couch in the Grille, and there wasn’t much point in waking the guy up. So it was that she was in the outskirts, armed with a sniper rifle, a laser pistol, and her custom Shishkebab. For about a half hour she was out there, walking under the moonlight. Hunting for whatever quarry she could find, it didn’t matter what. Anything to ease the edge off, she’d take a trader at this point. 

She finally spotted something moving atop a hill, so she tapped the side of her helmet as the red eyes lit up. The interior of the helmet was activated as night vision brightened her vision, granting a red tint across the land. She looked through the sniper scope and spotted her target, some sort of two-headed animal similar to one she’d seen in the Commonwealth. A radstag she believed it was called, though this one had horns on either side of its head, both of them. Her finger hovered over the trigger as she steadied her breath and… 

The faint sound of rocks crunching beneath something was picked up by her rabbit ear, a little too close for comfort. So she whirled to face the possible threat, one hand reaching for her chainsword. Right as a knife found itself kissing her neck, the blade just shy of cutting the flesh.

“Well, well, well, fancy meeting you out here… Overboss.” The raider’s voice was sweet despite the situation. 

“Stand down,” Sarah ordered, brokering no discussion. “Now.”

The masked raider looked down to see that the huntress’s sniper rifle had been pressed up against her. The barrel angled directly at her stomach, a difficult wound to treat should she fire. A hum of surprise escaped her as she looked back up at the Overboss, her teeth flashing through the gap in the mask.

“Gooood instincts you got… and even better reflexes…” The cold edge of the blade was pulled away as the stalker held out her other hand. “Name’s Dixie.”

Though she wore a hood, the metal plates in front of her face served more as a mask than anything else. A red splotch was painted over it, diagonal as it identified her allegiance. Disciple . 

Mmm… perhaps Nightstalker in human skin?

Sarah kept her eyes on the raider for a good five seconds before remembering what she’d been doing. Her late night snack was still alive and kicking. 

“Pleased to meet you,” Sarah stated flatly as she pointed behind her. “You mind not stabbing me in the back for a bit?”

“Not at all, I-”

Sarah didn’t give her another second to respond as she twisted around, aiming her sniper with one hand and a slight glance through the scope. The two-headed gazelle went down a second later. Sarah holstered her weapon and darted after it, fully aware that the raider woman was following her. 

The law of the wasteland was such that nothing was spared if it had use. Food, clothing, weapons. There was a growing need for all these, a fact forgotten by those who lived in what opulence was allowed to grow unchecked.

“So what’s up?” Dixie asked. “You a nightbird?” 

“Couldn’t sleep, was hungry.”

“Y’know we got a market for whatever y’want?” 

“It was cramped.”

“OB don’t like cramped spaces?” The woman persisted as Sarah began cutting into the animal. “But… you was in power armor. I’d think it were plenty cramped up’n there.”

“Are you here to fuck with me more or do you actually need something?” Sarah snapped. 

“I’m just here to peruse the goods, OB!” Her voice sounded closer as she whispered, “Admire them a bit.”

In her frustration, she failed to notice Dixie sitting across from her until she started cutting up the animal as well. None of the motions were without purpose either, no sloppy slice wasted any fur. Very unlike the work of Disciples she’d seen so far… 

“Now I’m sure that the other gangs were crystal clear with their intentions, and Nisha was a sweet darlin’ no doubt about that…” Dixie’s voice was pleasantly upbeat. “But our group notices things, more so than whatever shitty network the Operators think they have. Me most of all, all thanks to this waitin’ game good ‘ol Colter put us through…”

…

“You like collecting things too, don’t you?” Dixie asked quietly.

“Elaborate.”

“Girl, I seen your power armor! Most people do that to look like toughshit… but you,” Dixie looked up and pointed her knife at Sarah, “You got keepsakes it looked like.”

“They’re necessary.” Sarah deflected.

“Hmm I’m sure they are darlin’... but unless you’re one o’ them Enclave, why ya got that there helmet?”

She paused and looked up at Dixie. The Disciple was back to her harvesting, even humming a little tune. There were few reasons anyone would bring them up at all. Fewer still would have even heard of the old world group…

“Their technology is effective, and bones aren’t protective enough.”

“The decorative sort, I see,” Dixie said as she nodded. “And that chest armor? Don’t know about the animal in front, but I seen the symbol behind it. Ooh… is the animal a kitty cat? Ah! A Sabertooth like that skull ya got?”

“Look just stop ask-” 

“And whose dog tags you got there?”

“I said stop .” Sarah snapped.

“Sorry…” Dixie apologized, but the lilt in her voice suggested she wasn’t sorry at all.

Every other raider either stayed clear out of respect, fear, or were simply biding their time. This woman fit neither of those as she wasn’t even threatened by her. As useless as it was to be interrogated, it was just the same to get riled up by a raider’s questions.

“I… stop asking so many questions at a time.” Sarah sighed. “I’m… not used to company like this.”

Dixie said nothing else as they finished skinning the carcass, moving on to set up a fire. Sarah stabbed her quarry with a thick branch before setting it over the growing fire. The smell of meat cooking got one’s stomach growling, but other than that, there was only the crackling fire. Then came the hiss of air as the Overboss removed her helmet and set it down next to her. When she looked back up at the smoking animal, there was a bottle of Nuka-Cola being offered by Dixie.

The raider had nothing to say as Sarah looked to her for an explanation, so she took it. “Nuka-Cola Dark” it read, anything else was too worn off to be legible. So when she uncorked the bottle and got a whiff of its contents, she raised an eyebrow before taking a swig. To her surprise, there was a slight buzz underneath the sweetness. 

“You got pretty eyes,” Dixie said as she drank, hands propped up underneath her helmet like one would their head. “Lovely faces too…”

Sarah groaned as the bottle left her lips, its contents a quarter empty. She thought she’d drunk everything the world had to offer, and yet… Dixie’s words registered only then. Her vision swam slightly as she oh so slowly looked at the Disciple. She could see a smile in the gap, a glint to her visible eye. 

“Don’t you mean ‘face’?” Sarah chuckled.

Dixie giggled. “I know what I said.” 

Ignoring the raider’s all too accurate observation, she stared into the fire, tired eyes lit with its glow. It had a warmth to it more welcoming than the afternoon sun. It might’ve been ten minutes until Sarah spoke again, drowsily getting up to cut off a piece of food. 

“I’ll answer… one… question if you answer one of mine.” 

Dixie leaned forward, one arm wrapped around a knee as her other hand held its own share.

“What do you know about the Brotherhood of Steel?” She asked before digging in. 

Dixie chewed - when had she removed her helmet? At least she ate before speaking, Sarah hated when people did that. 

“Enough to know they’re shitheads underneath those buckets.”

Sarah nodded. Whatever this animal was, the meat was delicious. 

“That they are.”

“My turn then…” Dixie moved to cut another piece, licking her hand. “You’re not gonna to sleep in the Fizztop Grille?”

Sarah slowly shook her head as she ate her dinner, washing it down with the rest of the alcoholic soda. 

“Uncomfortable.”

There were no more words later that night. Just the soft crackling of a fire as one of them slowly drifted to sleep.

Sarah woke up with a scream. 

It wasn’t a scream of horror at some irradiated monster, but a scream of someone who survived something she should not have. 

“Sarah!? Sarah, calm down! Just calm down!”

“Haa… haa… haa…”

Sarah was sat up on a bed, sweating profusely as she looked around. This was an unfamiliar room, dilapidated for sure but…

“Elder… you’re alright.”

“Gallows… Roxana… what…”

The two people she trusted most were at her side. Gallows, quiet and ever dependable Gallows, stood with his power armor on. There was a laser rifle in his arms, but the armor had certainly seen better days. Then there was Roxana, her selfless and virtuous wife, holding her hand with both of her own.

“The mission was a failure, Sarah… it was a failure and…” Roxana trailed off as she seemed to struggle with the words.

“What?” Sarah asked, reaching for her life partner’s shoulder. “Roxana, say it. What happened?”

“You died.” Gallows said instead.

Sarah slowly looked at him in disbelief. When he didn’t look away, Sarah let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. 

“What?” She didn’t realize she asked the question out loud as Roxana hugged her.

“Super mutants had us pinned good, that tech cache was a trap! The next thing we know, an explosion happens and… and we couldn’t find you.”

Sarah was dazed, things didn’t feel right. The air was odd on one side of her head. 

“How…” She coughed. “How long was I out?”

“A week, Elder.” Gallows said quietly, slowly making his way toward a window and peered through it.

Sarah felt her stomach sinking, her mouth agape. Nothing felt right, not even as Roxana pulled back and kissed her on the lips. The contact was desperate, hands holding her arms so tightly it felt like they would be crushed. Why did her head feel so strange?

“God… I thought you were dead…” Her wife kissed her again before looking her straight in the eyes. “I thought you were dead.”

“We… we have to get back,” Sarah’s mouth managed to say something, desperation entering her tone. “We have to, I-I need to let them know I’m alright so we can-”

“Sarah, just st-” 

“No. No! Don’t tell me to stop,” The Elder yelled. “We can still regroup with the forces at the Citadel!”

“Sarah! The Citadel’s been abandoned!” Roxana countered, shocking the other woman. “It was under siege the whole time after you’ve been under. Most of the Brotherhood has relocated to Adams since then, and the rest… super mutants are killing stragglers in the streets…”

“No…” Sarah breathlessly stated.

None of this was right. Nothing felt right. She didn’t die, she was right here! And… and why did her head feel so strange!?

“Rendezvous coordinates were sent to me by Star Paladin Cross while we were here… they’re abandoning the D.C. area.”

Gallows sighed from his spot. “We’re on our own.”

“This is Elder Cross, broadcasting to all Brotherhood cells. I am hereby appointing Paladin Tristan as successor to the rank of Elder. All outward forces are to retreat to the designated territories to regroup. Talon Company is crippled. We have dealt a heavy blow to the super mutant forces here but as have we in turn. I do not expect to return… let it be known that the enemy has a leadership. His name is Shepherd. Ad victoriam, my brothers and sisters.”

- Elder Cross, final report before making her last stand in the Second D.C. Strike

When Sarah awoke, it was to witness the sun overhead beaming its hatred on her. There was no hangover to go along with the hell of waking up on hard ground at the very least. 

“Morning~ Overboss.” A certain Disciple’s head blocked the sun as she loomed over her, her mask back in place.

“Dixie?” Sarah muttered, smacking her lips. “You were here all night?”

“Someone had to keep watch. Speakin’ of, you talk in your sleep.”

Sarah grunted as she stood, stretching her limbs as they popped in a satisfying manner. Her left eye stung though, it always did in the morning. She tested the sensor on her head as the antennae rose and fell, audio picking up well enough. She reached down to pick up her sniper-

“WHO’S ROXANA?” Dixie’s voice was loud enough that it sounded as if she was next to the Overboss. 

Sarah stopped, grimacing as she adjusted the sensor to point upward. She turned around, Dixie being in the same place as she was when she woke up. The raider was blissfully unaware of her momentary irritation, instead- 

“Hmm, sounds like a pretty name.” Dixie said, a knife in one hand as a finger trailed its rusty edge. “Rolls off the tongue all nicelike.” 

Sarah said nothing as she put the ranger helmet on, careful to allow the sensor on her head peek out the side. It was always preferable to be concealed, no one could expect what your intentions were. And so far, there’s been a lot of prying that she didn’t appreciate. She hefted the sniper rifle with both hands and fastened it behind her back, hands falling to her side. One hovered close to the laser pistol underneath the trenchcoat…

“So, what are we doing today?” Dixie continued.

“Don’t talk-” 

“You can start by taking me with you out here.” 

A new voice pitched in, familiar and and with more gruff to his accent similar to Dixie’s. It was Gage, and he didn’t seem too pleased that she was out here. His arms were to his sides and his brows were furrowed, and his eye did occasionally look at Dixie. He sure was sweating a lot, his chest heaving up and down.

“You found me.” Sarah responded simply.

“Yeah, I did!” Gage fired back. “Why didn’t you tell me you were out last night!?”

“You were asleep,” Sarah said as she turned in the direction of Nuka-Town USA. “I can handle myself.”

“Dammit boss, Colter trusted me less and less and that’s part of how we got in this mess!”

“You said the place was becoming too dangerous to get a wink of sleep,” Sarah said as she gave him a sidelong glance. “Good soldiers need shuteye when they can get it.”

“Heheh…” Dixie giggled at Gage’s frustration. “Nisha corner you?”

“Fuck yes she did! I was down in the workshop to see if the boss was there, and when I went out, Savoy came in as I got to the door. Fucker didn’t even say anything he just stood there! And then he just lets me go, so I ran all over the fucking place, tryin’ to find her…”

Sarah suppressed a laugh, looking to one of the parks in the distance. These raiders just didn’t like to sit around, it wasn’t in their nature. She supposed she was like that now, or perhaps it was always there. Back with her leading the Lyons’ Pride all those years ago.

Back with what came after, the mercenary work, the team of the best people she ever knew, Roxana’s love. Hearing these two bicker, they reminded her of those old times. In a weird way. She thought if she turned now, she’d see them there. 

Gallows. Roxana. Even a Brotherhood Outcast, one who stuck by her longer than she would have expected.

“Try to keep up, you two.”