That night, everyone gathered on the melon patch. This was unusual - they usually hid wherever they could, wandering the dark corners of the village. Maybe they were in awe. It was a sight to behold indeed, our good Mr. Preston, naked except for his white briefs and a metal armor patch on his left arm, was standing on the roof of the HQ, apparently having no idea how he got there, and being equally unable to get down.

This was not the first time in the Sanatorium, as I grew to (reasonably fondly) call the place where I used to live before the war. Before the old cucco lady glued herself to a chair one day and never moved since, she and that "technician" guy also climbed up on the roof. That time, a simple matter of a stairway hastily constructed alongside the crazy pair did the job. I was sure hoping that would be the case this time as well.

But first things first. Glancing over the silent crowd as if nothing special was happening, I calmly told the last Minuteman to get down and stand beside me. "Sorry sir, can't do that" - he replied. I pulled a stairway out of the warehouse and set it up. Nope. Looked like the fella wants to do it the hard way. Very well, thought I and went for it.

He was good, the last Minuteman. For several minutes we circled the roof, his naked body glistening in the light of the nearby lamp posts. Yes, it was raining, too. He masterfully evaded the edges I was trying to push him off from, until I got him cornered where the two roof edges meet. He took a wrong step and fell off.

With great relief, I jumped off after him and finished equipping him with armor. See, he ran off and climbed on the roof while I was looking for some components to finish upgrading the armor for him. After a short reprimand (I had to imagine that part), we set off on a quest for more duct tape. Some things never change.

It was a dull foggy morning when we found ourselves in some unnamed forest. The rain has stopped, but the fog rolled in, and while it was clear there is some kind of a bog on our way, there was no way to know how long it stretches for. Cautiously we stepped in and waded across the bog.

Bloatflies! I was so happy I could just hug each one of them all in turn. I mean, I was expecting nothing short of a deathclaw kid. Well, how about just letting Preston do the honors with that fancy long laser-thing? So I sidestepped and backed up a bit, so that Preston... hmm, where is he?

After some fifteen seconds he arrives out of nowhere and yells something appropriate. By that moment I decided I'll give him full license to deal with the situation. So I started running in circles. Preston started shooting.

It was reminiscent of a Star Wars shootout. Fancy red beams all around, ugly flies lurking in the fog. The mighty pines. My good buddy by my side... Ahem.

Well, this lumberjack was not "okay". By the time he was done with the flies, I was on the last percents of my health. He only seemed to hit once every seven shots on average. Needless to say, since he was missing, not a single fly (there were three in all) diverted its attention to him. They were all shooting their maggots at me, while I was running in circles around Preston, praying that he shoots the bloody things already. For him to finish them off, I had to actually stop, so that the flies stopped too.

Finally, the flies were dead. I walked up to the man, looked in his eyes and said, in my mind, "Preston, I have a feeling you wanted your general to die to these silly things. I feel a sabotage, soldier.".

With that, I raised the barrel of my gun to his forehead and emptied a clip into him.

He was tough, that Preston guy. It took me four clips to bring him down. All the while, he was just standing there bleeding on me, without saying a word. Such loyalty, thought I.

After a fourth clip, he briefly fell on his side, caught his breath and jumped right up. In the tactical view, I could see his health rising rapidly.

"Well, buddy - what do you think about our relationship now?" - I asked.

"I think I made a good choice to proclaim you General, General" - he answered. Or something to that extent. With a heavy heart, I got on a terminal, opened a text file and wrote this short story.