The year is 2282

205 years since the atomic war that nearly murdered the entire earth.

1 year since the great battle for Hoover dam in the west.

And 5 years since the destruction of the Enclave mobile base in the east.

In this time, new nations formed and fought.

People died while others lived on.

The ones who thrived though, were the people carried on the back of those that held the titles;

Vault dweller; Chosen one; Warrior; Lone wander; Courier.

Few have known the effect on the world they had,

How powerful their actions really were...

Act 1, Chapter 1: Pitts of hell

"Knight Rogers, how far from our destination?" asked the gruff, authoritative man riding shotgun. The vehicle rocked as the two right wheels rode over a crack in the asphalt road. The man riding shotgun turned to the back seat, "Now, Rogers."

"We're about ten miles, sir." answered the man in back. He sorted through his maps until he found a more local one. He scanned the old world, Pennsylvanian road map before nodding. "Make that about five miles. You really think there's anything left of that place, sir?"

The officer turned back toward the front of the vehicle, grabbing onto a handle as the Hummer they rode in rocked again. "I hope so." he muttered as their vehicle ran over the back end of a burned out car. Its rusted fenders crushed to dust as the heavier SUV rolled up and over the now crushed steel carcass. The officer stared out into the post apocalyptic wasteland as they pressed on down the ruined highway 22. Behind their vehicle followed two more trucks meant for pre-war trophy trucks. And finally, following up the convoy, a semi sporting a thick brush guard and large trailer plowed its way through the obstacles the other vehicles were forced to drive over.

Back in the lead Hummer, the driver wiped a Kevlar glove over his face to stop his sweat from trickling down into the plates of his heavy metal armor. All three men in the vehicle, the driver, officer, and navigator, all wore an identical set of protective armor. It was comprised of heavy steel plates, with motor functions built into them the assist with the weight of such cumbersome armor and any additional gear they might carry. Horn-like decorations atop the helmets accompanied with the evil yellow glow of the optical lenses gave an almost satanical look to the helm of the armor, as it was the face of fear staring out at any enemy with the strength and tech of the old world, and deadliness of the new world. Tagged on the shoulder plates of each of their armours, in blue paint, was a symbol. A large cog sporting a sword cutting through the middle and a trio of smaller gears within. In the wasteland, it meant power. In towns, it meant protection. In trouble, it meant hope. For it was the symbol of the legendary Brotherhood of Steel of the Midwest.

As the vehicle cleared a small cluster of ruined cars, a wild dog stepped out in front of the convoy. Red drops intermixed in its slobbery drool fell from its crimson stained teeth. The officer glare scornfully at the dog before he turned to the driver and gave a nod. The hummer sped forward and smashed the mutt with the front bumper. The entire vehicle rocked as the splattered hound passed under the tires. Quiet thuds followed the squeaks of suspension systems as the two trucks passed over the dog. The semi's engine gave a sudden roar as it picked up speed. There was not a thud to be heard as the multi-ton truck flattened the feral hound to fine paste, leaving it to rot under the high-noon sun. The semi's driver gave a chuckle before weaving his vehicle around an over turned car. He followed close as the convoy approached another bone yard of rusted vehicles. The trucks weaved through and pressed on as the semi backed off a bit a put some distance between him and the others. Once the smaller trucks were far enough ahead, the semi accelerated to plow its way through the cars.

"We're clear, go nuts." The radio crackled. The semi truck driver grinned as pressed the accelerator down further, his truck roaring plowed through the cars. One poor vehicle abandoned on the road was left length ways on the asphalt. The force in which the semi hit it with tore the rusted relic in two, the separate halves of the car falling under the wheels of the semi and the plumes of red dust scattering to the winds.

In the lead hummer, the officer situated in the front seat pulled his G3 rifle from the floor and set it across his lap. He pressed a button on the forearm plate of his armor and the radio in his helmet clicked to life.

"Convoy, we're a mile out from target, watch out for wildlife." He shutoff his radio and turned to the driver, "Knight Tipps, that goes double for you."

"Yes, sir." the driver responded in his south Carolinian accent. He pressed down the gas pedal and the Hummer pulled forward. The convoy drove for a half mile, weaving or smashing through the rusting and neglected vehicles rusting out on the forgotten highway. The broken down road came to a wide bend before sloping upward into a hill. And at the apex of the incline stood two large towers. High steel walls laced with barbed wire sprang out from both directions of the structures with figures moving atop them. Only a thin trail on sunlight leaked through the gap between the two massive gates hinged to the towers. But on the top of this massive barricade, only two men could be spotted roaming the towers.

"Captain, we got possible hostiles up ahead." The driver warned. The Captain squinted through his helmet optics to try and clearly see what it was. Being half blind, he opened the glove compartment and retrieved the binoculars inside. With these he zoomed in on the men standing guard over the gate, patrolling with high powered rifles. Something in the towns kicked to life, releasing a puff of smoke before the gate opened, permitting a raider duo with miniguns to exit. The two in the tower set up the bipods of their sniper rifles. The verteran officer could sense himself being sighted in. He set his Binoculars aside and turned on his radio.

"All brotherhood knights and paladins on full alert. Possible hostiles ahead. Snock, are you on the radio?"

There was a silence for only a minute before an empty, lisping voice echoed, "Yess, Captun? You call?"

"Yes, have your brothers ready in case the shit hits the fan."

"Yes, sir. We will be ready to do killing when you ask for killing to be done."

The radio gave some static, then went silent.

Knight Rogers, sitting in the backseat, brought an AK-47 out from under his maps. He plugged a magazine into the rifle and snapped the bolt back with a satisfying clack. The convoy climbed the vacant road of the high hill until the lead vehicle stopped just short of the gate. A blood stained banner hung off one of the towers.

The words, "The Pitt" was painted over the blood.

With the trucks closing in, the two men boasting miniguns stepped forth from the gate. The captain could see now the massive sizes of their bodies. One of these men could easily go toe to toe against a Super Mutant in hand to hand combat. Whether or not he would win is a different story, but each of these titans stood seven feet tall, seven and a half if their mohawks were counted. Their bulging bodies were bristled with muscles so massive that the miniguns seemed more like children's toys than weapons. Their bodies were clad in heavy steel plates that appeared to be reforged car hoods bent to cover their upper torsos while expertly crafted plates covered the rest of their bodies.

One strolled casually to the lead Hummer and tapped on the drivers window. Knight Tipps rolled it down slowly as he gripped his side arm.

"What is your business?" The man demanded in his deep, hostile tone. Tipps glanced at the captain, who had removed his helmet to show his face. A long ragged scar tore down through his right brow, from just below his hair line to midway through his chin. His right eye, which the scar tore through, was covered with an eye patch baring the same symbol as his armor. Except around the symbol it stated, "Midwestern Brotherhood of steel".

"We are an armed column seeking a path to Washington DC. Do you know the route?" the captain asked.

The monstrous man glared at the officer, "If you intend to pass through our city, you must be escorted first to Haven. Our boss declared all visitors of interest must see him upon arrival."

The captain glanced back at Rogers, who nodded. The captain returned his helmet, adjusting the seals around his neck before nodding at the man outside the truck. "All right, we'll meet your boss. Lead on."

"Hhmph" The guard grunted in acknowledgment. He stepped back from the truck and returned to the gate. The men in the towers stowed their snipers and disappeared into their posts. Seconds later, the gate opened in full. The convoy pulled forward through the fortification and over the crest of the hill. Below them, at the bottom of the mountainous slope, lay the unbombed city of Pittsburgh.

A giant steel mill bellowed smoke from its many stacks. Bright lights from these buildings glowed as fire erupted from giant furnaces on rooftops. In buildings all over the city were flashes of gunfire and bursts of lasers. But the sounds of distant battle drowned out as a motorcycle pulled up beside the lead Hummer. The rider adorned in raider apparel tapped a lever action shotgun against Tipp's window. "Stay close, we're still cleaning out the city. Could get dangerous."

The bike pulled ahead of the convoy to lead them as they ventured on into the city.



A small girl, no older than six, walked with a small skip down a hallway. Behind her closed a pair of elevator doors and an awful rattle as the lift began to descend. She ran her fingers through her black hair and swept it beside her face. She pulled a cloth from her leather coat and began rubbing some grime away from her cheeks and nose, turning the rag brown with gunk. Her blue eyes gleamed in the light and she passed between between two guards in heavy leather protective gear much like the gear used in a coal mine, including a helmet and respirator mask. The orange leather that made up their jumpsuits seemed stiff, and their jerky movements proved this as they turned toward the little girl. Dust leaked from the respirators and their voices were muffled through the mask when they spoke.

"Marie! Your father's been looking for you," one of them announced, pointing toward the larger room at the end of the hall. Marie nodded and continued on to the wide room the raider guard directed her to. The room itself was quite spacious, with the broken bases that once held statues on either side of the room. Marie glanced up at the turret hanging from the roof in the corner, its scanners searching her body for threats. Shrugging off the turret, Marie turned her attention forward to the man behind the desk at the other end of the room.

"You were looking for me, daddy?"

The man looked up, cracking a smile through his dark, grime ridden face. His heavy power armor creaked as its motor functions struggled to work. The rusted plates gave hushed squeals as he stood up from his chair. "I was my dear. I was wondering where you have been."

"I was on the roof with my telescope to watch the men clean the city."

Her father nodded, "Fair enough, but still tell me where you are. The cleansing isn't done yet. I don't want any stray bullets to harm my little cure."

"Dammit Ashur, can you stop calling her that?"

The man in the chair, Ashur, turned to the woman who had entered through a side passage to his right on the side of the room. He smiled at her while leaning back in his chair, "The name's true enough, is it not? Sandra?" he said with a slight chuckle.

"Daddy calls me 'cure' because I made people healthy! I like the nickname!" Marie said with a wide smile and a sense of cheer. Sandra gave a disappointed sigh as she removed her gloves and stuffed them in her lab coat. She ran her hands around the back of her collar, pulling her shoulder length black hair out from underneath.

"Then lets take the cure to school. You still haven't finished that math page I gave you."

Marie giggle before pulling a slip of paper from her back pocket, "I did it on the roof!"

Ashur leaned back in his chair, a wide smile across his face, "she's just like her mother."

"Can I go back up there? I want to watch the strange new trucks driving in." Marie stated, a little too innocently. As the words came out of her mouth, Ashur fell backward in his chair. His power armor crushed his frail wooden seat to bits. But as quickly as he hit the floor, he had flipped over and pushed himself off the ground and was back on his feet in an instant. He leaned in over his desk toward Marie, hands braced on the oak top as a serious look dominated his normally stone cold expression. "What was that about trucks?"

His little girl cocked her head to the side in an air of confusion, "I heard off my radio that men in big armor and big trucks came in the highway 22 gate. They're coming to Haven to talk with you."

A snarling face grew on Ashur's face, "One; are there any symbols on their vehicles? Two; where did you get a radio?"

Marie gave an unknowing shrug to the first question, then blushed to the second. "The lieutenant made up a radio so we could talk when he was gone. I told you already. But he hasn't been answering for a long time."

Ashur gave a sigh as he leaned down on his desk, "Sandra, take Marie to our room, continue her education. I have important matters to deal with."

As Marie crossed the room toward Sandra just as the elevator doors at the far end of the hallway opened up. Ashur watched his wife take their daughter into the side passage as a raider came running into the room. "Lord Ashur, we have company! Three trucks, one semi. Men are armed and armored!"

"Is it who I think it is?" Ashur responded, glaring at the messanger. The raider nodded.

"They may have finally come for you."



The Captains Hummer crushed the front quarter panels of a car as it slowly proceeded down the narrow streets of The Pitt. Tall, decayed apartment buildings lined the road on either side and sounds of war and raging blast furnaces echoed constantly in the background. The motorcycle pulled ahead of the convoy, coming to another gate before stopping. But behind this gate lay an enormous building that stood higher then most others in the city. It was a structure that the Captain had not seen since he stood among the skyscrapers of Chicago. At the base of the building, before its front doors lay an open pit with a scrapmetal bridge cutting across it. Above the bridge was a massive statue of rebar and coiled wire coming together to form the likeness of a man on his knees, reaching for an object just out of reach.

"Very abstract." Tipps commented. The raider on the motorcycle stopped before the gate and revved his bike's engine. In a second the wire gate pulled open, permitting the vehicles to pass. Inside the lead Hummer, the captain scanned the environment he found himself in. All around the area lay snipers in towers, rocket troops in the buildings. There was enough heavy weapons to obliterate their convoy and them some.

Very casually, the Captain reached for his radio button, clicking in on and in a low voice, ordering "Men, stay on full alert. But remember, fire only if you feel overly threatened or fired upon."

The convoy came to a stop in front of the skyscraper. The doors to the vehicles opened and the men stepped out of their vehicles, except for the troops in the semi truck. Of all the men that disembarked, it was a total of ten brotherhood troops clad in power armor and armed with assault weapons.

"Welcome to Haven." The voice echoed from a loud speaker in the front of the building. Ashur made his way down the from steps of the skyscraper. Two men armed with assault rifles marched beside him as he came to greet the captain. The two leaders stood face to face, seemingly sizing each other up. "I am lord Ashur. Ruler of The Pitt. What is your business in my city?"

The captain pulled off his helmet, staring down Ashur with his one good eye. "We are forces of the Midwestern Brotherhood of steel. We are currently seeking passage to an area known as 'The capital wasteland'. Do you know a route?"

A look of surprise was taken on by Ashur, "Yes... I know a route...but first, come inside. If you're headed to the D.C. area, then there are things we should discuss before any brotherhood decides to cross my city." Ashur turned to march back toward Haven, motioning for his men and the captain to follow. The brotherhood officer glanced back at his soldiers waiting aside their vehicles, "Stay here. Code Delta Bravo."

Ashur stopped and turned back to the Captain, "My men won't attack unless you strike first. There will be no need for that code here."

In both confusion and curiosity, the captain did a hurried walk to catch up to Ashur, "How do you know Brotherhood code?"

With a creaking smile, "There is much for us to discuss." was all Ashur said.



Static buzzed through a radio speaker, the tones coming through varying widely in pitch as the tuning knob dialed in. The radio gave a final screech as the dial hit a certain frequency. With the static settled, a small hand pressed down on the microphone's trigger before a young voice spoke. "101? Come in 101. This is little burg, come in."

The trigger was released to allow the low hum of static to resume from the radio. Marie adjusted her seat atop Haven's roof, checking the back of the radio for loose wires. But no, the radio was still hooked up to the massive tower behind it and nothing seemed dysfunctional. And the sky was as clear as it would ever be for the constant overcast above Pittsburgh. Maria picked up the microphone and pulled on the voice trigger, "Come in 101. This is little burg, please talk to me. It's noon, you always answered at noon."

Only static replied to her call. A sigh of disappointment released from her small body. She flicked off the radio and climbed off her chair. With only a moments glance back at the jury rigged radio, she returned to the waiting elevator door. With a final sigh she pressed the sparking down arrow to call the lift up to her level. As usual, she had to wait ten minutes for the elevator to rise from the ground floor. Marie guessed that Ashur's guards would be swapping out at this hour, so that'd mean the elevator would stop a floor below her before arriving to her destination. She thought for a moment, taking the old fire escape and using it as a short cut down. It was only one floor, and it wouldn't be too dangerous.

Never take the fire escape unless it's an emergency. Ashur's words hung in her mind. Those things are two hundred years old and very, very rusty. They could give away and there would be nothing to catch you if you fall. And if you got scratched, or stabbed, you could get tetanus. Tetanus kills people Marie.

She wouldn't disobey her father. His actions always had reasons, and he would never put her in harms way. So the fire escape was cut from her list of options. The elevator it was. The impatient Marie pressed an ear to the elevator door to listen to the tell tale grinding the elevator made when it moved. It was just below her now, disembarking its current passengers. About a minute later, the doors shut and engines screeched as the lift came up and halted on her doors opened to the empty car and the 'drustly' smell emerged.

Drustly, Marie thought, the rusty, musty, dusty, moldy, smell. Drustly. She remained repulsed to the odor until her nose adjusted. It was a horrid smell, though the smoggy air outside wasn't much better. Marie pushed the button to go down to her home floor and waited as the doors slid closed. The car jerked downward as it started to descend for a whole ten seconds. The lift came to a stop and the doors reopened. At the far end of the hall, Ashur sat at his desk in the big room. Beside his desk sat another man in a full suit armor like Ashur's, except darker, shinier and rust free. Marie had a spark of recognition and a wash of excitement rolled over her. She dashed forward to the second man crying, "101!"

The man turned in his seat, his eye-patched face bringing Marie to an immediate halt. A smack of confusion hit her as she just stood there puzzled. "You're not him."

The man shot an odd look at Ashur, "Who's 101? Who's this?"

"Captain Harold, this is my daughter Marie, the cure that saved the Pitt." Ashur introduced. The captain smiled at the girl, adjusting his eye patch as to look as kind as possible.

"Why hello there little Marie. I'm Harold Gin."

Marie stood silent as she stared at him. After dragging out the silence for a few moments, she sighed and walked off down a side corridor of the room. Harold gave a confused look and turned back to Ashur, "Is there something wrong with her? Possibly involving this, '101'?

Ashur leaned back in his new replacement chair, a pre-war recliner that had been quickly brought in from an old apartment complex. "'101' is my lieutenant. He operates out of the capitol wasteland. He's a very smart, very talented, and very dangerous man."

"How so? What's the story behind him?" Harold asked, leaning in. Ashur opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out a scotch bottle with two glass bottles cut cleanly and horizontally across the middle. He filled one glass with the strong alcohol and then the other as well.

"Lets have a drink. To the chain that binds."

The captain grabbed the glass raising it as Ashur did his. They said cheers and drank. Harold had only sipped where as Ashur drowned half the glass in a single shot. He slammed the glass down and wiped his lips. "Arrgggh, strong stuff... Now, where to begin?"

Harold swirled his glass and took another shot. "From the beginning... for the record book. How did an ex-paladin come to control the Pitt?"

Ashur smiled, "So you want the whole story."



Twenty five years ago, there was no 'Pitt'. It was Pittsburgh, former steel capitol of the world. It wasn't directly bombed in the war, but the merging of three irradiated rivers caused... unique and ill effects. There was a contagion that killed people like cancer. But if it didn't kill you, you went crazy. Or worse.

But we didn't know about it nor did we care. When my detachment of brotherhood members came through with a hell hammer of fury in what we called 'the Scourge'. If it looked hostile, we killed it. If it snarled, we killed it. If it looked at us funny, we killed it. We slaughtered entire packs of vile creatures and mutated people without hesitation.

But I never saw the end of the scourge. I was hit by an explosion of some sort and left for dead. When I woke up, I became a sort of god to local survivors. I used this. And after killing local raider leaders, I became commander of the strongest forces in Pittsburgh. It was not long after that I fired up the old steel mill and began producing ammunition and other goods. But it was then that I... discovered the contagion.

The contagion is one of the most horrid things I ever encountered. With it, our children could not grow, our people could not live. It's what made half the evil things that inhabited the city, it made people crazy. The contagion was an inescapable fate to those who lived outside hightown, a plague that destroyed anything that didn't live within this section of the city. You see, this district is too far from the rivers. So far that the contagion doesn't linger here. This safety combined with this building is the reason I made Haven my headquarters. The place I started from when I began to rebuild the Pitt.

Later, after I activated the steel mills and setting for the industry of production, I realized I was losing workers faster to the contagion than I could hire, so I began using more drastic methods of... recruiting. It became more... forceful. This meaning I brought in slaves from everywhere I could. Ronto, Cleveland, some even from Baltimore and the Capital wastesland. I hated myself for it, but I had to push my city forward. Anything for progress. And somewhere along the line, I met Sandra. She came in from the east, a place called the institute. She was a gem to me, and a smart one. She knew a lot about science and diseases. She began researching a cure for the contagion, but with little success. At least until Marie was born.

My daughter you see, she was special. Since birth she had a natural immunity to the contagion, to all diseases actually. She was a natural barrier against everything that dwelled in the Pitt. It gave us hope. A hope to hang onto until, well...

Until the day 101 arrived. It was almost a year after Marie was born is when he came in from the Capitol wasteland. He was a worker at first, but he quickly proved different. We tried and tested him, unknowing of what he was capable of. But when we saw exactly what he could do, even I stood up and took notice. He fought the most difficult tasks in the Pitt and came up to our ranks. And when a revolution broke out to tear me off my throne, he stepped up to save the Pitt from almost certain destruction. So I named him lieutenant, my second in command. He stuck around for a few days, helped in the mill and steel yard, but then... he left. It was almost two years since I saw him next. He just walked into town and acted like he never left.

He did work around the yards, more than any of my other men combined. Then he comes to Haven, spent two months without leaving this building. Most of the time he was with Sandra and Marie. To think I was almost suspicious of them, of what was going on in that room. I was at least until one day Sandra walks up to my desk and places a needle in front of me. I asked her what it was.

Then 101 walked in, said they'd done it.

I asked what.

Little Marie, who had only begun speaking words a week before, walked in and climbed right up on my lap and hugged me. My little Marie told me herself that they'd finally found a cure. I was shocked to say the least. I nearly passed out when Sandra said they were already prepared to mass produce it.

That man... 101... is possibly one of the greatest men I've ever met. If it weren't for him, we may not be even speaking right now. You may be amid a desolate ruin right now if not for his intervention. It saddens me that he left again, but didn't leave with out a last gift for Marie. He set up a radio on the roof for her to talk to him. Then he left and I haven't seen him since.

But when he left, I set straight to work on the cure. I made a deal with the workers, said they'd get the cure if they promised to stay. Conditions would improve, they wouldn't be living in fear. If they didn't make the promise, they weren't given the cure, but they were then free to leave. Most chose to stay, seeming how this was their home and we were still the safest city for two hundred miles.

With the contagion dealt with, I had only one last issue. The city itself. Before, The Pitt was infested with horrors of every kind. Trogs, wildmen, dogs, rats, robots. I had to clean the city. And for that I needed a bigger army. So I went to Youtown, its a prewar city north of here that was ruled by warring tribes of raiders. I made deals with the raiders, gave them ammo, weapons, gained their trust so I could slaughter their leaders and take them over. Once I did, I brought my new army back to the Pitt to merge it with the old. There were disputes at first, even bloodshed. But when factions emerged, I executed the leaders and abolished all infighting once and for all. Then, I began the second Scourge. A war to clean The Pitt of all surviving trogs and anything that threatens our reconstruction. It's a war that's been raging for the past two years. A war I've almost won. Only a few remaining portions of The Pitt still need to be cleaned, about twenty city blocks comprised of highrises. But once they've been cleaned, the Pitt will be the very thing it was meant to be. A powerful force with a powerful driving force pushing it onward. Our children can finally grow without fear. Raider clans will surrender and join us. Refugees will flock to us. Flock to our production, our economy, our military.



The half empty scotch bottle crashed to the floor as Ashur attempted to reach for it. Harold stared at the slightly intoxicated leader as he cussed and pounded a fist on to his desk. Harold to a shot from his glass, "Then I guess 101 is my best bet of getting something done in the capitol wasteland."

Ashur checked his empty glass before downing the last of the drops. He threw the glass away before staring Harold down. "He could help you once you reach the capitol's wastesland, but to get there, you need a train."

"A train?" Harold repeated.

"A train. The railway leading there is long and dangerous, but it is the only way to get there since the highways east of here are too far gone to support a vehicle. But I just happen to have a train rebuilt to operating condition that I might be able to lend. But before you use it, you have to do me a favor. Actually two."

"What do you need of me?" Harold asked, almost earnestly. Ashur grinned.

"I need you to run a message to the capitol wasteland detachment of the brotherhood of steel. It's a business deal to open up a market in the Capitol wastes."

Captain Harold nodded, "I can do that. But, what of the second favor?"

Ashur slid open a drawer in his desk, checking down on its contents before glaring up at the Captain, "I need that semi of yours."

All essence of companionship dropped from Harold's expression. He took up a stern almost annoyed look. "I can't do that."

Ashur pulled a .44 magnum from the desk drawer, laying it on the desk. "I believe you can, if you ever want to make it to D.C."

Harold stared at the pistol for a second, his one good eye narrowing on it. He drew up his helmet and placed it on his head before fitting the seals. Ashur placed his hand over the magnum's grip, drawing back the hammer. "What's it gonna be?"

Before Ashur could receive an answer, the intercom on the wall behind him started wailing. The half-second Ashur took to face his communication array, turning his back on the captain, was the only chance the brotherhood officer needed. Harold stood from his seat, drawing his G3 and aiming it right at Ashur's head. He flicked off the safety and placed the barrel a foot away from Ashur's ear, finger snug on the trigger. "Drop the gun, and answer your call, lord Ashur."

Hesitantly, Ashur released his magnum and let it fall to the floor. He stood from his seat and moved to the intercom, pushing the talk button and asking, "What is it?"

"Lord Ashur! We did what you told us to, but we have a big problem!"

"What kind of problem?"

"It's the Brotherhood's semi! It has-" the intercom cut off.

"It has what?" Ashur snapped as he punched his fist into the speak button. He punched the intercom once, then twice with no response. The sound of a cocked bolt reminded him of the gun at his head. Ashur turned, his head brought a little higher. "If you're going to kill me, I'll let you know that you won't leave here alive."

The captain chuckled before lowering his rifle, "I know better than to bite the helping hand, Ashur. Besides, you should know first why I can't let you take the semi."

"Why?" Ashur questioned. The Captain pressed a button on the side of his forearm plate to activate his radio.

"Snock, is the situation under control?"

A silence came over the radio until the heavy voice came over the radio, "I am here, Captain. Situation isss... Tensssse. But all iss sstable. Three death troops and both us blind eyes accounted for."

"Excellent. Keep the situation peaceful until the raider leader and I can come to an understanding."

"Affirmative. Snock, out."

Ashur glared at the Captain, "Who is Snock? What kind of man is he?"

Captain Harold slung his rifle around and turned toward the elevator, "The deadliest kind. Follow, Lord Ashur, there are somethings better shown than told."

Harold lead Ashur back to the elevator, ignoring the burning glare from the broiling raider leader. They stood silently in the elevator as they descended to the ground floor. Once there, the doors opened and Ashur stepped ahead to rush through the main foyer. Harold double checked the spare magazines in his armor pouches before following. Ashur came to Haven's main doors and thrust them open to step into the main plaza. He took a moment to observe the full scene before him, the brotherhood troops in defensive positions completely surrounded by Ashur's forces. Then the raider leader laid eyes on the semi truck. More specifically; its open trailer and what came out of it.

Thick steel plates were perfectly fitted to their bodies with Kevlar covering the the parts of their bodies that were not protected by armour. Their heads were covered in brutal looking helmets with forward pointing horns and tusks under their jaws. The helmets were also uniquely designed to allow their long, demonic horns to come out unobstructed. And at the ends of their tails, long, lethal looking blades were fixed to the tips. These three heavily armored deathclaws were decorated with the brotherhood's emblem painted on their breast plates and stood with their tails brushing against each other as they stood defensively back to back. Surrounding them in defensive formation were the brotherhood knights and paladins, their backs to the deathclaws as they faced off against the raiders lining the area, who were keeping their guns trained on the power armored warriors. But before Ashur, the air seemed to shift, as if shaped glass passed before his eyes. In a second, the air seemed to spawn two more deathclaws shrouded in black cloaks. One of these beasts drew back its hood with its lengthy claws, the back of which was also covered by metal plate gauntlets. Its lethal horns atop its head were barbed with a metal spike just like a harpoon, and for the same purpose. Struck in the center of its helm was a stamped symbol of the brotherhood's symbol.

"Snock, introduce yourself." Harold ordered as he stepped up beside Ashur. The deathclaw chuckled as it dropped its cloak, revealing the armor it too wore underneath. Along its limbs were small blue disks, glowing and shimmering as the light around them bent out of shape. For only a second, the deathclaw went completely invisible only to reappear again.

"Of course, Captain." the deathclaw said in a grim tone. It bent down, bringing its face down to Ashur's. It extended a claw to the Pitt lord, the razor points of its nails gleaming in the afternoon sun. "I am Snock, knight commander of the Brotherhood of steel. Deathclaw division."