Alright folks, here we go. It's been a good long while since I've written anything, so please, do be kind (at least until I can get back in my groove. Then feel free to be as cruel as you please...or not.)

This fanfiction, as has been noted, takes place after Broken Steel, and focuses heavily on the Lone Wanderer and the aftermath of those events. So, to those of you who haven't had the opportunity to beat that DLC yet (or the main quest of Fallout 3, for that matter) consider this your SPOILER ALERT and don't say I never did anything for you.

Now, here's the story. Please, feel free to leave comments, and I hope you enjoy.

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Chapter 1: Perversion

Chief scientist Adams weaved his way past yet another form clad in power armour. He muttered something intelligible under his breath; without men like him, the Enclave would still be stuck in the past like the Brotherhood of Steel, scavenging whatever meagre scraps of antiquated pre-war technology they could manage to find. And yet, as he strode quickly down one of the base's long, dimly lit corridors, his footfalls nearly inaudible against the metal surface, the troopers he encountered made little, if any, effort to accommodate him: merely continued to march blindly forward, as if oblivious to his presence.

Then again, the ground forces of the Enclave weren't exactly known for their cordial demeanour now, were they? He let out a disappointed sigh; men of science always went unappreciated during their own time.

After several more minutes of walking through the narrow conduits weaving through the Enclave base 'Fort Liberty,' the faint red illumination of the passages casting his simple white lab coat a crimson hue, he finally arrived at his desired destination; the CO's office. Adams approached the heavy frame surrounding the large steel door, and thumbed a small red button along its edge. From within, he could make out a faint electronic chime.

"What the hell?" came a surly voice from within, muffled by the metal door but losing none of its agitation. "Yes, fine, come in!"

There was a slight hiss as the pressurized door began to open before Adams; one could never be sure of when an airborne contagion could enter the environment, he supposed. The door itself sank into the frame beneath the floor, revealing the considerably better illuminated office within. The clean, sterile appearance, bathed in a refreshing white light as opposed to the typical red, was a pleasant sight to Adam's eyes.

And of course, the sight of the woman seated behind the desk within was equally welcome.

There was an awkward moment of silence as the woman continued to pour over a host of reports skewed across her desk before her. Adams took a step inside the office, sticking his pale white hands inside the pockets of his labcoat as he stepped towards the desk, silently waiting for some form of acknowledgement from the Major; though he technically reported to her, he wasn't one of her jarhead grunts, and so had never bothered to stand on formal military protocols in her presence.

After what seemed like several prolonged moments of silence between the two, the woman finally bothered to look up from her paperwork, albeit with an exasperated sigh. "Adams," she began with a condescending tone, as if to ask 'what do you want now?' Despite her position of authority, Adams couldn't help but admire the emerald green eyes gazing back at him, a remarkable determination behind them. The Major's face was quite fair for a woman of her combat experience, and Adams could have sworn that her features looked subtly Asian, though he had no doubt she would deny such a thing; the Enclave needed men and women like Major Jade Cochrane, but not if there was even the slightest chance their ancestral roots were not as American as the proverbial 'apple pie,' whatever that meant. Patriotism, Uncle Sam and baseball, Adams thought with a silent chuckle.

The Major, however, seemed none too pleased regarding Adams' gaze. "I assume that there's a reason you're pestering me, professor?" the Major asked with a raised eyebrow. "I've more important things to be doing than having you gawk at me all day long."

Adams quickly snapped his focus back to the matter at hand, pushing his eyeglasses further up his nose in a nervous reflex. "Yes, of course," he replied simply, nodding. "I thought you might like an update on the project I've been working on, Major."

Cochrane leaned back in her large, padded chair, the young woman's face partially obscured by the brim of her officer's hat as she tilted her head down, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Which project was that again?" she asked curiously. "You'll forgive me, professor, but I have a fair deal on my plate at the moment."

"Of course, Major," Adams replied compliantly, nodding his head. "It's Project ARIES, ma'am."

Major Cochrane looked up, and Adams could see from those dazzling eyes of hers that she now recalled the name; though it was of a different ilk than his own, he could recognize an unmistakable intelligence every time he looked at her. "Yes, I remember now," she remarked casually, accessing the terminal situated on her desk. "The last time we spoke, you were accessing data from the Capital Wasteland operation, weren't you? Notes regarding..." Her eyes scanned the screen of her terminal, before darting back up to Adams. "Vault 108, was it?"

"Yes, Major," Adams replied in the affirmative. "The data our forces gathered regarding that particular Vault have been most..." Adams couldn't help but break out in a wide smirk. "Helpful."

Cochrane turned back to her terminal, and her previously calm expression quickly morphed into one of puzzlement. "And according to this, you've been quite busy since we last spoke about this project of yours," she pointed out. "It seems a considerable amount of materiel has been rerouted to you in the last few months. Power armour, energy weapons, neural interfaces..."

Adams bowed in a slightly submissive fashion; Enclave officers didn't like to be kept in the dark like that. "Well, Major, as you know it has been some time since our last meeting, and, well, I didn't want to bother you with every insignificant detail."

"This type of equipment is hardly insignificant though, is it professor?" Cochrane asked judgementally. As she continued to scan the file on the project, those magnificent eyes suddenly widened, intensified, and Adams could have sworn the Major stopped breathing for a moment. "Adams, why have you been accessing the files on Frank Horrigan? And what's this 'biological sample' retrieved from the Raven Rock facility?"

Adams could feel his heartbeat quicken considerably; if she hadn't before, the good Major knew full well now that Project ARIES was markedly different from its peers taking place at Fort Liberty. "Well, Major," he began nervously, "if you'll just let me explain why-"

"Explain quickly, professor," the Major demanded, rising up out her chair, narrowing eyes bearing down on him. "I want to know what you've been up to, and more specifically, why I wasn't kept informed. And I want to know now."

Adams nodded his head sheepishly as he backed towards the door. "Yes, well, perhaps I should show you, and explain along the way," he suggested, gesturing to the door leading back into the facility's grid-like corridors.

The Major seemed to hesitate for a moment, perhaps debating whether to take Adams up on his offer, or have one of the Enclave squads 'speak' with him in her stead. Adams silently prayed for the former.

Finally, after several moments of silent debate, the Major made her way from around her desk, straightening her drab, brown military uniform as she moved towards the door. Even intimidated as he was, Adams couldn't help but note that the clumsy looking standard issue garb didn't do the woman's lithe, athletic form justice as she moved towards him.

"This had better be good," Cochrane growled as she stepped out of the office.

Adams broke out into a wide grin of both relief and delight. "Oh, you won't be disappointed," he remarked, adjusting his glasses playfully before following the Major out of the office.

Moving at a careful distance behind the Major, Adams noted how differently the Enclave troopers treated a fellow soldier, not to mention a superior officer. There was something comical, he thought to himself, about watching an eight foot juggernaut in power armour move aside for a deceptively petite woman standing relatively short of six feet.

"Well, professor? Start talking," the Major demanded, not bothering to even look back at him.

"Of course, Major. I'm sure you are aware of the events that took place in the Capital Wasteland approximately two years ago?" Adams asked, though he had no doubt in his mind that she was fully aware; the debacle with President Eden and his subordinate, Colonel Autumn, was well known amongst the Enclave forces, even outside the Wasteland. "The incident at Project Purity, and the subsequent loss of the Mobile Siege Crawler?"

An audible sigh of impatience sounded from the Major's direction. "Yes, professor, I am in fact well aware of both of those incidents. I served as a Captain in the Wasteland before being reassigned here."

Adams gulped nervously; he hadn't been aware of that particular fact. Then again, it wasn't for scientists like him to know everything about their commanding officers. "Well, then, I think you would agree it's fair to say that our efforts in the Wasteland were met with...little success."

"That is a brilliant tactical assessment, professor," Cochrane growled back, her tone obviously anything but impressed, though she still kept her back to him. "I trust this is all leading somewhere."

"Indeed it is, Major," Adams replied dutifully as they neared his lab, sealed off from the rest of the base for reasons that would soon become apparent to the lovely Major Cochrane. "According to all reports we've received regarding our operations in the Wasteland, there has been one deciding factor that has always resulted in the success of the Brotherhood of Steel forces stationed there."

"I'll assume you're not referring to Liberty Prime?" Cochrane asked. "As I understand it, the Brotherhood is still working on repairing that pile of scrap."

Adams shook his head as he approached the door to his lab. "While Liberty Prime was certainly a formidable asset to the Brotherhood forces at the Citadel, I am referring to a far more influential individual." Adams strode next to the Major, and grinned maliciously with delight as he turned to look at her. "I am speaking of the Lone Wanderer, so called 'Messiah' of the Wasteland."

Major Cochrane turned to face Adams, standing no more than two feet from her now. All trace of irritation, of impatience was now absent from her face, replaced only by sheer curiosity. "You mean, the sample from Raven Rock-" she began uncertainly, her resolute air of dominance suddenly far more subdued.

Adams continued to smile as he turned to the keypad before him, inputting the code to unlock the door. "During his brief campaign in the Wasteland, the late Colonel Autumn was able to capture the Lone Wanderer, hoping that he might prove useful in their efforts at Project Purity. While this hope proved to be fruitless, he did have the foresight to obtain a genetic sample from the Wanderer, as well as a cerebral scan. No doubt the scan was meant to discover anything the Wanderer might have known about Project Purity, but such data takes a considerable time to decipher."

"So then the sample you're using for ARIES," Cochrane began, and Adams took a special delight in knowing that her own keen mind was beginning to piece everything together. "You're using the Lone Wanderer's DNA and neural data?"

Adams snickered to himself as the door to the lab opened fully, revealing the work area within, complete with a medical bay, engineering area, and a massive, neon green cylinder at the opposite end, filled with a bubbling liquid and a dark silhouette inside.

"The very lifeblood of the Lone Wanderer," Adams muttered under his breath as he stepped inside, moving slowly towards the massive tube. "Combined with the cloning technology of Vault 108, along with the medical and technological marvels of the Frank Horrigan project." Adams turned back to Major Cochrane as he stopped before the massive cylinder. "Major...this is Draco. The Enclave's perfect weapon."

From the Major's position, it would have been perfectly reasonable for her to have Adams executed before a firing squad. But, she was having the exact reaction he'd hoped for; unadvlterated wonder, and awe. She stepped cautiously towards the tube, which held inside a massive humanoid shape, at least fourteen feet in height, encased in a specially customized power armour Adams had designed himself.

Though, Adams thought, some credit surely had to go to the scientific minds that had preceded him. Without their advances, and even the efforts of Augustus Autumn, none of this would have been possible.

"So...then this thing is a clone of the Lone Wanderer?" the Major finally managed to ask, seemingly enthralled by the very sight of Adams' creation.

"Yes. Enhanced by the Forced Evolutionary Virus, and augmented with the finest Enclave technology." Adams turned towards the Major, the lenses of his glasses a solid green as they reflected the light pouring from within the tube they now stood before.

"Adams, by all means I should probably have you shot for doing this behind my back," Cochrane remarked bitterly, shooting a quick glare at the scientist. She then turned back to the tube, and delicately placed her hand on its glass surface. "But this...is remarkable. You say you used the Wanderer's cerebral scan as well?"

"Yes, Major. But you needn't worry; I've installed safeguards within Draco, and modified key parts of his brain, to ensure that he won't behave as his progenitor has." Adams turned back to his dormant creation. "I can assure you, he will be perfectly loyal to our cause."

There was a moment of silent admiration of the creature within that tank, as both Adams and Cochrane looked upon him with awe. Adams knew full well the Enclave's policy on mutants; he had no delusion that this was the next step in evolution for Humanity. But both he and the Major were able to appreciate Draco for what he was; able to appreciate him for the incredible weapon that he was.

"I want to talk to him," Major Cochrane ordered after a time of silence, having recovered her composure. "It. Whatever; I want it awake."

"I was hoping you would say something like that," Adams replied, moving towards a terminal situated next to the tank. He input a series of commands, and within seconds, the FEV liquid within the tube began to drain. There was a loud hiss from within as dozens of medical tubes lashed away from the power armour, its surprisingly organic, glossy white appearance standing in stark contrast to the usual demonic looking, matte black armour employed by the Enclave. Once the tank had been completely drained, the glass cylinder slowly opened, removing the last barrier that stood between Draco and them.

The creature, eerily still before then, quickly lurched into motion. Adams had half expected the Major to gasp in surprise, or perhaps even hoped for such a reaction, but she did no such thing; she was remarkably composed as Draco, standing at almost three times her height, able to dwarf even the most stalwart Super Mutant in stature, stepped down from his platform, and crisply saluted her.

"Draco, reporting for duty, ma'am," his grizzled voice came from the suit's mouthpiece.

Cochrane grinned with delight as she turned towards Adams, clasping her hands professionally behind her back. "I have to give you credit, professor: this is immaculate work. Is it combat ready?"

"I'm making some final adjustments to the suit's power systems to accommodate the integrated weapons payload I'm giving him. But he should be fully operational within a matter of days."

"Good," Cochrane replied, nodding contently. "I'm going to inform Enclave Command, and requisition additional troops and Vertibirds."

"Ma'am?" Adams asked dubiously, arching a single eyebrow of intrigue. "There are still a number of tests to be performed before we can-"

"Then perform them. Quickly," Cochrane informed him sharply. "I want this, Draco, of yours battlefield ready as soon as possible."

The respective gazes of both Adams and Cochrane were drawn towards the lumbering behemoth as his armoured frame stirred. "Ma'am, permission to request mission parameters?"

Cochrane flashed the creature a sinister grin. "We're going to be deploying you in the Capital Wasteland, Draco," she replied. "You'll be accompanying our forces, to help them rout the Brotherhood of Steel." She narrowed her eyes. "And defeat the Lone Wanderer, once and for all."

Excellant job, DarkNova. I only found a few mistakes in grammar here, and I didn't notice any spelling errors, and it's also a good length with an interesting plot so far. So... Great job, and keep up the good work. I'm looking forward to the next chapter.

Brilliant. Simply brilliant. I can't wait to see how this turns out. :rock:

Awesome stuff! More please

Awesome! great work, can't wait for the next chapter.

Thanks for the great feedback, guys. I'm going to start work on Chapter 2 tomorrow.

LOL!!!!! That story is amazing! I was shivering in anticipation the whole time!

(After calming down...)
P.S.: What part of the country is this Fort Liberty in anyway? Or were you planning on revealing more info in the future?

I figure Fort Liberty would be somewhere to the west of the Capital Wasteland, but still in relatively close vicinity. Just far enough so that they don't have too many problems with the Brotherhood.

Anyway, here's the next chapter of the story. As always, feedback is appreciated, and I hope you enjoy it.

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Chapter 2: Bane of Steel

//Begin: Enclave Mission Log//
From: Sierra Flight (VTOL Heavy Transport Vertibirds)
To: Enclave Control (Fort Liberty)
//Log Begins//

VTOL S1: Sierra Flight, this is Sierra One. Commence pre-operation systems check, over.
VTOL S2: Sierra Two here, roger that. We are five-by-five over here and ready to unleash hell, over.
VTOL S3: Yeah, I'm here. Not like I can go anywhere with this damn coffin tethered to my bird...
S1: Can the whining, Sierra Three. Are you good to go?
S3: [sighing] Sierra Three, ready to get this crap toss over with. Sir.
S2: Cocky bastard.
S1: Cut the pvssyr ladies. Enclave Control, this is Sierra Flight. We are status green and awaiting confirmation for operation go-ahead.
ENCL: Sierra Flight, Enclave Control. You are clear to begin deployment at target coordinates. God bless America, Sierra Flight.
S1: God bless America, Enclave Control.
S3: So we're good to go then, right? I'm getting sick of towing this thing around.
S1: Affirmative, Sierra Three. Navigation computers are locked in. Target Citadel: confirmed. ETA is approximately five minutes. Keep it tight, boys.
S2: Roger that.
S3: Let's do this.

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She noticed it out of the corner of her eye; another awkward glance from the Knight standing beside her. Alice could feel her muscles tighten with irritation as she lowered her pistol, eyes clenching firmly shut.

"I wish you'd stop doing that," she growled bitterly. If it had been any other day, then maybe she wouldn't have cared that the man kept looking at her. But that wasn't any other day, and she was mad enough to take on a Super Mutant if she had to.

There was a slight delay in the Knight's response. "I'm sorry?" he asked, feigning ignorance. Alice snorted; typical. "I don't know-"

Alice re-opened her large, bright green eyes, and glared accusingly at the Knight. "You know damn well what you're doing!" she shot back irritably. The Knight's face was lined with shock, and in the back of her mind, the rational part of her mind, Alice supposed she couldn't blame him.

It wasn't every day that a Brotherhood Knight, clad in massive matte grey power armour and wielding a laser rifle, was berated by a Scribe on the firing range.

The man, probably only about twenty, around her age, seemed to stagger back from the verbal assault. Good, Alice thought; it was about time something started going her way today.

"I'm sorry," he began, though probably more out of compulsion than genuine regret. "It's just that, well, I don't often see many Scribes on the firing range. It's just a bit odd, is all."

The Knight's point was perfectly valid; most Scribes spent the bulk of their time inside the Citadel's lab, perfecting weapons, repairing armour, or doing one of the hundreds of other tasks they were expected to do. Not that they got any of the credit in the end. No, nobody cared about who invented the plasma rifle, or who solved the power utilization problem for the T-45d power armour. At best, they got a footnote in history.

The only real heroes were the guys with the big guns who went around blowing things up.

But that was all beside the point; at the moment, Alice wanted to be as far away from the lab as was feasibly possible. As far away from the vaunted Scribe Peabody, as was feasibly possible.

Self-righteous [censored].

"Well, here I am," Alice pointed out for the Knight, yet another bravado young soldier full of 'piss and vinegar,' practicing how to break something. "And I have as much right to use this firing range as you do! So why don't you just do me a favour, and stop-"

Alice was cut off as a third figure stepped forward, blotting out the Wasteland sun overhead. Both she and the Knight were quick to face the newcomer, and were just as prompt to become completely silent.

"Is there a problem, here?" the woman asked the two of them, her bright blue eyes darting between them. She too was clad in power armour as the Knight was, but Alice wasn't about to begin a speech to her.

Alice ducked her head down low, loose strands of feathered, light brown hair falling in front of her face as she did so. "No, Sentinel Lyons. No problem here," she replied sheepishly. There was no response whatsoever from the Knight to her side.

"Good," the Sentinel replied with a casual tone, and as Alice once again looked up the legendary warrior was crossing her arms over her steel plated chest. "Now Scribe, shouldn't you be inside, working on something?" Of course, the Sentinel didn't know what Alice was supposed to be doing at that moment, didn't know that she was supposed to be doing weapons research. Then again, she didn't have to know. She was just putting as politely as possible the words 'You don't belong here, get lost.'

Alice nodded promptly in agreement, her fair, pale features submissive. "Yes, Sentinel," she replied compliantly, suddenly eager to find herself once again under the scrutiny of Scribe Peabody. She was used to that, at least, and better back inside than draw any further attention to herself.

Before she had a chance, however, one more figure approached their group, this one even larger, and more intimidating, than the last.

"Problems, Sarah?" asked the fourth figure, an African American man clad in a pale blue suit of streamlined power armour. He regarded the three of them coolly, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark black sunglasses, with his ebony skin offset by the bright blonde colour of his goatee and brush cut.

"No problems, Keith. Just a minor disagreement," Sentinel Lyons replied nonchalantly, her tone so relaxed and personable when speaking to the near mythical figure beside her. "The young Scribe was just headed back ins-"

"Sentinel Lyons!" cried a frantic male voice, from someone outside the four individuals gathered there. Alice, along with the others, looked up to see a Paladin atop the Citadel's outer wall, gesturing frantically in the distance.

"What now?" Sentinel Lyons grumbled sourly. "What is it, Paladin? What do you see?"

"Vertibirds!" the Paladin cried back, his face obscured by his massive helmet. "Enclave Vertibirds, coming from the west! They're headed right for us!"

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S1: Enclave Control, this is Sierra Flight. We have visual contact on the Citadel and are making final preparations for deployment.
ENCL: Roger that, Sierra Flight. Any signs of defences?
S1: Affirmative, Enclave Control. Picking up multiple tangos on the structure's outer wall, and a number of heavy sentries along the perimeter. [Warning klaxon]
ENCL: What's happening, Sierra Flight?
S3: I'm taking some fire over here!
S1: Sierra Three adjust your vector twenty degrees east.
S2: Multiple bogies opening up!
S1: Sierra Three, adjust your vector!
S3: It's no good! I'm losing control!
S2: I've taken a hit to number two rotor!
ENCL: Sierra Flight, deploy that package at all costs!
S1: [Pause] Roger that, Enclave Control. Sierra Flight, adjust your pitch forty five degrees down.
S3: Engines are gone! I can't control it!
S2: I'm losing the tether!
S1: Just a little further...!
S3: [Screaming followed by static]
ENCL: Sierra Flight!
S1: God...bless...Amer- [Static]

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The Citadel courtyard was a maelstrom of hot lead and laser bursts, as the entirety of the Brotherhood defences tore the Vertibirds overhead into slag. Gatling lasers, miniguns, missile launchers: any and all available ordnance was fired at the oncoming aircraft. Alice watched with a mixture of horror and awe as the vehicles flew past overhead, explosions pluming violently from their matte black hulls.

The first of the craft exploded midair, the resulting debris carried forward and past the Citadel by its original momentum. The second began to spin frantically out of control, its movements like a horrifying spasm as it crashed somewhere beyond the Citadel walls. The last of the three slammed into the Citadel's far wall, igniting into a massive fireball and spitting stone and metal debris across the courtyard.

The final object, however, was not a Vertibird at all; rather it was a long, silver shaped tube, suspended from the three aircraft by massive, black metal tethers. As the vehicles flew over the Citadel in their final moments, the tethers broke away, and the cylinder crashed near the centre of the courtyard, upright and jutting defiantly from the ground.

An eerie silence fell over the Citadel. Both those who had been outside for the entirety of the spectacle, and those who were just now emerging from the building from the commotion, stood utterly silent, gazing wordlessly at the great container deposited by the Enclave

"What...is it?" Alice finally asked, breaking the silence. The thing was massive; though she'd never seen one, she imagined it to be nearly the size of a Behemoth, almost twenty feet from top to bottom.

"I don't know," Sentinel Lyons replied, any tone of pretence once in her voice completely gone. She turned towards the men and women nearest to the massive tube, at the centre of the courtyard. "Somebody secure that thing!"

Three members of the Brotherhood, two Paladins and a Scribe like Alice, complied with the Sentinel's orders. Together, they cautiously approached the unknown object, never venturing closer than a few meters. After circling it several times, and no apparent activity, one of the Paladins gathered his courage, and stepped towards the tube.

It would be the last action he ever took.

The Paladin screamed in agony as a man-sized, scythe like blade erupted from the side of the pod, impaling him through the torso. Alice froze in terror as the blade, having erupted near the bottom of the pod, quickly sliced its way upward, leaving a long gash in the side of the cylinder and dragging the Paladin upward with it. There was a loud bang as the side of the pod burst open, revealing...

Revealing whatever the hell it was that was supposed to be inside.

The thing stood at fourteen feet, its body almost organic in appearance and yet distinctly artificial. Stepping out from its container, the thing seemed to regard the Paladin, still suspended from the blade mounted to its arm, with an idle interest, before casually flicking him away. Three hundred pounds of flesh, bone and steel were tossed clear across the courtyard like a rag doll.

The other Paladin and the Scribe quickly scrambled away from the beast, taking refuge amongst the rest of the Brotherhood that watched the grisly scene in muted horror. The creature seemed to survey the courtyard, taking in the faces of those around him, before standing even taller than it had before, almost with a sense of pride to its stance.

"Enclave unit Draco, online," the thing announced proudly, and to Alice's horror, she recognized the voice. Half the faces in the courtyard shot in her general direction, to the man standing just in front of her.

The thing had Keith's voice.

"Primary objective: the restoration of America, and the neutralization of its enemies," it announced loudly, in an almost machine-like manner. The thing hunched its shoulders and lowered its head, before marching towards the nearest group of Brotherhood soldiers.

"Executing."

So your Lone Wanderer's name is Keith,interesting...

Just wanted to say, outstanding work. I check in every time I swing by the Fan Fiction board for any updates. I love your writing style, good dialogue, good character development, all in all, I simply love your writing style.

:thumbsup:

EDIT: Now that I think about it, what your writing style reminds me of the most would be the first three Halo novels. Out of those three, most specifically The Flood. And I've heartily enjoyed all of the Halo novels.

Good stuff!

Thanks, I appreciate that; I'm a big fan of the Halo novels myself.

And thanks for the great feedback, guys. I'm going to get started on chapter 3 tomorrow, most likely.

Hurry up with Chapter 3!!! I cant wait,I'll even do a dance if it will make you write faster!

Just kidding,I can wait. No point in rushing good writing you know.

Agreed, take your time but not to long... Please, this is excellent. You should see my MSN picture, it's of Frank Horrigan! He's awesome, so I like this.

Just updating to let you know that I am still working on this, just recent circumstances have hindered my writing efforts somewhat. I'll likely get back to work tomorrow, but with a home renovation project on the horizon, I'm not sure when I'll get the next chapter up.

I'll try to make it sooner rather than later, though, so you don't have to dance too much...

Hey, take your time, mate. Quality over quantity and all that, y'know? It's looking pretty wicked so far, though. Good job. ^_^

Well guys, I'm delighted to say that chapter 3 is finally here. As always, any constructive criticism you can offer would be appreciated.

Hope you enjoy it.

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Chapter 3: Unrelenting Demon

Sarah Lyons immediately reached for the laser pistol holstered at her hip, her bright, ice blue eyes never once leaving the armoured abomination before her. There was no fear, no doubt in the young Sentinel's mind, even as the massive creature calling itself Draco made a beeline for her location. Neither was there any pity for the Brotherhood Paladin who had just been brutally murdered by the lumbering beast; any such sentiment would have to wait for later.

There was only a steadfast resolve, as Sarah braced her massive armoured gauntlets around the grip of her pistol, steadying her aim at the creature's head; a tenacity that came with a lifetime of training, honed by years of experience. She pulled back the trigger, and a red hot bolt of neon light screamed forth from the weapon.

The single bolt was quickly accompanied by many more, along with several strobes of plasma, and slugs of varying calibres; the rest of the Brotherhood opened fire with their combined arsenal, a deadly menagerie of wrath and fury quickly closing on Draco, enough to repay the Paladin's death tenfold.

As Draco continued forward, however, something became abundantly clear; it was making no effort to evade the Brotherhood's assault. It merely continued its reckless forward charge with an almost bestial drive, as if oblivious to the danger all around it. It was soon apparent, however, that there was a method to its madness, once their combined attack collided with the lumbering behemoth's armour; rounds as large as .44 calibres pinged uselessly off the glossy white alloy, and even their energy weapons did little but leave small charred patches on its surface. Draco seemed completely unfazed by the entirety of their efforts, and continued to close the distance between it and Sarah with nightmarish speed.

Sarah managed to fire the remainder of her weapon's energy cells into Draco's head, but it was little more than an exercise in futility; the shots were having no effect whatsoever. The pistol empty, and with her assailant no more than several metres away and closing fast, Sarah threw her now useless sidearm to the ground, and lunged to the side, hoping to escape the massive, outstretched arm racing violently towards her.

Pain lanced throughout Sarah's chest as the colossal hand made a glancing blow against the side of her armour. There was a wretched, high pitched screech as the chassis of her suit gave away under the terrible force crashing into it, the steel plates buckling like cheap tin. The sheer power of the blow sent Sarah airborne, soaring helplessly for several metres across the courtyard before crashing back down to Earth in a heap of flesh and metal.

For what seemed like several minutes of pure agony, Sarah lay with her face in the dirt, struggling to stay conscious as her lungs burned with hellfire at every shallow, forced breath. The world around her, even the muffled maelstrom of screams and gunfire in the battle behind her, seemed like white noise, a surreal distraction as she stifled a violent cough, frothy pink foam erupting from her mouth. It took several more moments before Sarah became truly coherent, and forced her limbs into action, managing to flip over onto her back, but accomplishing little else.

With her vision still blurry, Sarah's bloodied features contorted in effort as she struggled to make out the battle unfolding before her. The rest of the Brotherhood continued to push their assault on the great lumbering beast before them, their weapons ceaselessly firing as they continued to back away from the monster, trying to maintain a safe distance. Draco, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the sheer brutality of the melee combat, carving a bloody swath through Sarah's comrades with the massive scythe mounted to its arm. With seemingly little effort, it continued to stab and slash at any form within range, indiscriminate between soldier and scribe.

Sarah struggled to force herself upright, to get back into the fight and aid her brothers and sisters. Her body, however, screamed back violently in protest, with every nerve seeming to light ablaze in one instant. She fell flat on her back, unable to move, her lungs threatening to give up altogether with each agonizing movement.

As Sarah lay there, her face to the bitter Wasteland sun above, another figure entered her vision, blotting out part of the sky overhead. The Sentinel narrowed her eyes, trying to focus on the figure, and soon recognized it as the young female Scribe she had been talking to just minutes before. Such a short time, and yet it seemed like a lifetime ago...

"Sentinel!" the young woman cried out desperately, before reaching into the pocket of her robe for something. "Just hang on, Sentinel," she continued, her voice still afraid, but possessing a certain fluidity to it nevertheless. "I'm going to give you a stimpack. Just hang in there..."

As the needle was inserted into Sarah's neck, she had the sudden sensation of ice cold water being pumped through her veins, snapping her mind sharply into focus. She managed a sudden gasp as her lungs too were enveloped by the chilling sensation, and she found herself once again able to breathe. The pain in her extremities now manageable, Sarah managed to sit up off the ground, coughing out another mouthful of bloody foam before clutching at the crumpled chest of her armour, turning to the Scribe.

"Thanks," Sarah offered bluntly, nodding her head. She turned back to face the ensuing battle as what was left of the Brotherhood began to fall back, away from Draco, their already ineffective weapons depleted. The only exception to this was Keith, who continued to fire his heavy minigun into the monstrosity's massive frame, even as the beast turned to face him.

"I have to get in there..." Sarah growled, preparing to launch herself anew into the battle, only to have the Scribe's hand brace itself against her shoulder. Sarah turned to look at the young woman, and saw hesitation etched onto her gentle face.

"Sentinel, you can't!" she cried out blatantly. "Our weapons are having almost no effect on that thing!"

Sarah's eyes narrowed slightly at this. "Well then you'd better have one hell of a plan B, Scribe," she replied curtly. "Because I'm not giving up, if that's what you're-"

"I'm not-!" The Scribe shook her head quickly in denial. "That's not what I meant at all, Sentinel! I just don't-" Her head drooped slightly in defeat. "I don't know what else we can do."

Sarah found herself at a similar loss; how in God's name were they supposed to kill that thing? They'd practically fired half their armoury at it, and it hadn't even left a scratch. The only opponent she could think of that even came close to that thing was a Super Mutant Behemoth, and the only way she knew of dealing with those was-

Sarah's eyes widened in a sort of hopeful desperation as the thought occurred to her. She glanced back at the firing range, pleadingly searching for perhaps the one weapon that hadn't yet been fired at Draco. She was sure Paladin Gunny had said he would be performing maintenance on one of them today...

Finally, she found what she was looking for: a large, matte black weapon, distinctly rail shaped in design. She simply gestured at the weapon to the Scribe, the young woman turning to face the Fat Man launcher as Sarah forced herself up off the ground, running as quickly as she could manage towards the heavy weapon. To her relief, she could see a miniature nuclear warhead sitting beside the weapon, and began loading it inside as soon as she reached the weapon.

"Scribe," Sarah began, addressing the woman behind her as she finished loading the massive launcher, and braced it against her aching shoulder. "What did you say your name was, again?"

"Scribe Alice Johnson, Sentinel," the Scribe replied, albeit a bit sheepishly.

"Well, Alice," Sarah growled, zeroing in on Draco as the beast made a swing at Keith with his scythe, narrowly missing the grizzled warrior. "I'd suggest you get down and plug you ears. This is gonna be one hell of a blast." She craned her neck and looked towards Keith, who had abandoned his minigun in favour of a .44 magnum. "Keith!"

"A little busy now!" the man roared back, quickly unloading his full complement of ammunition at his adversary before angrily throwing the empty weapon itself, though that too had no appreciable effect.

Sarah gritted her teeth as she prepared to fire the weapon, her finger hanging precariously over the trigger. "Get your ass out of there!" she hollered back, hoping that he would get the message. Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah could make out the African American man glancing in her direction, before promptly running in the exact opposite direction from Draco, apparently having gotten the idea. Draco itself began to turn around, but this time Sarah wasn't going to give it the chance to react.

She fired the weapon.

The small metal spheroid left the weapon with a deceptively innocent ping, spiralling through the air as it travelled in a perfect arc towards its target. Sarah kept her gaze locked on Draco as the beast pivoted its massive bulk, managing to face Sarah mere seconds before the mini nuke soared gracefully into its broad white chest.

A thunderous roar that seemed to shake the very Earth beneath Sarah accompanied the hot wave of air that slammed into her face, sending strands of her dirty blonde hair into a frenzied state. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she watched the white hot blast envelop Draco, consuming the creature's form in a thermonuclear firestorm. When the explosion finally died away, all that remained was a heavy cloud of dark brown smoke, obscuring where the colossus had once stood.

After a moment of bated breath, Sarah let out a sigh of relief, letting the Fat Man fall to the ground beside her. With a single grime-caked gauntlet, she brushed away an errant strand of hair, glancing at the remaining members of the Brotherhood that now moved towards her position, a certain relief in their own slow, casual step.

"Firing off a miniature nuclear device inside the Citadel courtyard, eh?" asked a rhetorical, jovial voice from the side. Sarah turned to see Keith walking towards her, gesturing to the Fat Man at her feet. "Now why didn't I think of that?"

Sarah's expression was hardly so jovial, however. "Keith...what the hell was that thing?" she inquired adamantly, pointing towards the blackened crater on the other side of the courtyard. "And why the hell did it have your voice?"

Keith's expression too turned sombre, and he shook his head curtly. "I'll be damned if I know," he replied simply. It wasn't the reply Sarah had wanted, but she had half expected it. "Maybe the Enclave tried to synthesize my voice or something? Hell, Eden was just a big talking robot, so I wouldn't put it past them."

Sarah furrowed her brow. "Even if they could, why would they bother?" she asked in response. "There was nothing subtle about that thing. So what reason would they-"

Sarah found her sentence cut short, however, when an enraged, rumbling scream broke out across the courtyard. She, along with Keith, Alice and the other members of the Brotherhood, turned towards the now dissipating cloud of smoke across the courtyard...and watched as something lumbered out of the crater.

"That's...not possible..." Alice whispered behind Sarah faintly, her voice a combination of terror and awe. Sarah couldn't even find the words to reply; she could only silently watch as Draco's form once again came into full view, stumbling forth from the blast site.

To Sarah's horror, she could now see the thing's face. She could see his face. It was a face that reminded her of every Super Mutant she'd ever killed, and yet it was distinctly Keith's face, as well. It was completely hairless, with monstrous deformations and a greenish tint to its skin...but she could still recognize it.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Keith commented beside her, falling back on his ass as he said so.

The thing...he began to lumber once again towards them, though this time at a much reduced speed, dragging his one crippled leg like dead weight. His tattered white armour clung to his flesh in scorched patches, and bright green liquid oozed like blood from within the suit. His face was contorted in rage as he wordlessly moved towards them, like some sort of nightmare made flesh.

"Sentinel Lyons!" Alice cried out from behind her, but Sarah didn't even turn to look at the young Scribe, seemingly enthralled by Draco's survival. She'd hit him dead on with a mini nuke...and he was still alive? Her attention was forcefully drawn, however, when the Scribe, in a gesture of defiance, jumped in front of Sarah, and slapped her across the face.

"Sentinel!" Sarah blinked several times before snapping back into focus, looking down at Alice. "We have to get out of here! The Enclave could be coming any minute, and with our forces depleted like this...we have to evacuate the Citadel!"

Sarah remained silent for a moment, before nodding solemnly in agreement. Even wounded as he was, they didn't have the firepower to take down Draco, and who knew what the Enclave had coming at them right that minute. She turned towards what remained of their forces from the courtyard: less than half of what they'd started with.

"Everybody, get inside!" the Sentinel roared, adrenaline once again beginning to surge through her veins. "Round up anybody not already out here, and then get to the emergency escape tunnels!" The others complied quickly, heading for the entrances into the Citadel, giving the slow moving Draco a wide berth.

Sarah turned towards Keith as the two of them, along with Scribe Alice, made their way towards the nearest entrance.

"And then, you and I are going to talk," she stated simply.

Nice, Nice! More please!

Yes my dance worked yay!

Great job my man. :goodjob:

Loving it so far. Keep it up

You'd think by now the people of the Enclave would be tired of their governments runaway military budget. Lord knows we were.