The moon hung high in the sky, illuminating the Capital Wasteland as Knight Captain Gallows walked along on the catwalks stretching across the tops of the Citadel. He nodded to the Knights and Defenders manning the watch posts in acknowledgement. Since the expedition had left, which was now almost a year ago, many great strides had been taken in fixing the rift between the Brotherhood and the Outcasts. Though tensions were still present, with both sides able to do what they wanted, there were no real problems save for the occasional heated argument. Thanks to the increase in manpower, Gallows himself had finally begun to receive breaks from his service about two weeks ago. He was using his current one to brush up on medieval history from a book taken from the Arlington Library, and had briefly set the book down to stretch his legs outside. The night was mostly calm, save for the usual cracks of gunfire coming from downtown D.C.

Gallows was just about to turn and head back inside, when three fast-moving figures caught his eye. They were all dressed in hooded robes and walking rapidly across the Rivet City drawbridge, their every movement lit up by a spotlight set into the hull of the carrier. With the increased trade and traffic due to the functioning water purifier and the disappearance of the Enclave, the Rivet City market had decided to stay open twenty-four hours a day. It was not uncommon for strange individuals to visit the market at all hours of the night. Yet to Gallows, there was something particularly strange about these individuals. Harkness, the chief of security, seemed to notice something as well. He stepped forward, his plasma rifle in his hands, and held his hand out, his palm vertical. The three figures froze, standing eerily still as they looked on. Then, something of a sixth sense overtook Gallows seconds before several bursts of gunfire cut through the night air, coming from across the water. The radio next to the Outcast watchman, the line between the Citadel and the purifier, crackled. There was a reason Gallows was the primary covert operator of the Brotherhood, and he had learned to trust his instincts. Following up, he moved next to the Outcast, who glanced at him briefly. Several other crackles followed, before a voice suddenly came through, mostly loud and clear.

"Hello? HELLO?" A male voice was whispering as loud as it could. There was a note of fear that could be heard. "Is anyone there?"

The Defender gave Gallows a shrug before answering. "This is Defender Camden at the Citadel. Who is this?"

"There's someone here!" The voice hissed. "I heard shots! They're in the hallway! I don't know if they've heard me, but-"

Over the radio, a massive clang could be heard, followed by a quick burst of high-caliber gunfire.

Camden looked up in the direction of the Jefferson Memorial. "What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing good." Gallows answered curtly.

As if to emphasize his statement, a low, rasping voice could be heard emanating from the radio. "Soon, my brothers, we will achieve salvation. The transcending waters will flow!" The speaker sounded like he was some distance from the radio on the other end of the line.

Another voice, this one much closer cut in. "This heretic is still gripping the radio…"

"I will take care of it." A third voice commanded. With that, there was a click, and the line went dead.

Defender Camden and Knight Captain Gallows took one last look in the direction of the memorial.

"We need to go." Gallows said in his trademark, straight-to-the-point fashion.

"Couldn't agree more." Defender Camden stated, turning and walking towards the ladder that led off of the catwalk, Gallows following suit.


Donnovan couldn't have known, but his old demons had turned up at the doorstep of his home…