I've been working on a story that starts off in the US before the Great War, the last year leading up to the Great War, and then continues after the war either before or after the events of Fallout 3. It'll be from the perspective of a Marine who fought in Alaska, was then transferred to D.C. to work for the Un-American Activates Force, and then becomes part of Operation Ice Man, which puts him and a group of other soldiers and scientists in cryo sleep, sort of like Mr. House without the ageing effects. They then wake up to what's left of America with one final set of orders, to rebuild. It's a work in progress, but here's the prologue.

Anchorage, Alaska
December 12, 2076

Thick, oily black smoke billowed up from the remains a Chinese Chimera tank which burned fiercely some thirty yards away from our position. Corporal Strayer grinned wickedly from behind the mound of snow he used as cover, flipping down the front section of his missile launcher to jam another missile into the breach. A few members of the squad nodded with approval or whispered quick words of encouragement before growing silent.
I shouldered my R-91 assault rifle and leaned against the abandoned Corvega I had been using for cover. “Nice shooting, Marine,” I said, nodding at the young corporal. I looked over at my second in command, Staff Sergeant Halithan, whose face was obscured by his goggles and white balaclava. “Do you think that was the last one?”
Halithan, a bulky, short spoken man from New York shrugged. “The Commies always seem to pull another out of thin air no matter how many we scrap.”
“Where’s that T-51b unit?” Private Wilkins asked as he nervously gripped his R-91 in his gloved hands. “I’d feel a lot better with some of those walking tanks watching our backs.”
Good question, I thought to myself. The power armored units were the heavy hand of the fight to reclaim Anchorage, the key to America’s success for the entire war in Alaska. So far the Army fielded nearly all the powered armored units that arrived back in June with only two under strength companies for the Marine Corps. They were effective weapons, having swept aside Chinese infantry and armor alike.
“I don’t know, but they’re around somewhere.” I glanced around the neighborhood we were fighting through, one of the residential areas on the edge of Anchorage. About a dozen houses lined both sides of the street, all abandoned with dropped luggage and personal belongings littering the street. When the invasion started back in ’67 most people fled for their lives in a rush. Some of the houses were shattered hulks that were damaged both by Chinese artillery and then our own during the start of the Reclamation.
Off in the distance, through the haze of falling snow, we could see the skyline of Anchorage’s city center. Of the few skyscraqers, most were belching smoke from artillery strikes. Every few minutes a few lines of tracer fire would leap up in an attempt to hit some of our fighter jet’s as they tangled with Chinese Xian-85 fighters. Fiery explosions blossomed near the head of the Army’s advance just outside the city at the nearby oil refinery.
“Ok, let’s pack it up and get moving,” I said as I stood up from cover, “Still got an ammo depot to destroy.”
My squad of seven Marines formed up behind me as I led them across the street and past the burning Chimera. We moved fast, ducking down an alley between two homes and cutting across the rear yard. Halfway across the snow covered yard, the atomic engine of the Chimera exploded with a skull rattling blast, sending up a small mushroom cloud behind us.
“Everyone took their Rad-X pills, right?” our corpsman, Doc Ridley asked as we moved. Everyone nodded back, having took their daily dosage earlier in the morning.
We moved onto the next street, finding it empty aside from a multi-car pileup at an intersection. A National Guard truck was lying on its side just off the intersection, its paint chipped and scorched. Passing it, I took a quick glance into the rear bed and then the cab, finding both empty of bodies or supplies, only some splotches of long frozen blood on the seats.
The ammo depot was two blocks to the north, closer to the center of the city, in what was once a school. Halithan moved three of the men on one side of the street while I took the other three on the other. We weaved from cover to cover, using abandoned cars and doorways. Another block behind us, the last block before the school, was blocked off. The squad came to a halt a dozen yards from the intersection where the Chinese had set up a checkpoint. Six soldiers stood watch behind a pair of sandbag walls on the sidewalks while several barrels and wooden barriers blocked the street.
I crouched down behind the edge of a coffee shop and consulted my map. I didn’t want to start a firefight a block short of the school and alert the other Chinese soldiers we were here. There were reports of another two Chimera at the depot, which Strayer’s single missile launcher couldn’t take on at once. I only had four riflemen including Halithan and myself, two grenadiers, and one heavy weapons operator, so getting in close undetected was key.
Seeing the area layout, I signaled Halithan to take his men and flank around from the right. Using a few hand signals, I pointed to a house several yards away from the school and signaled for them to take position there. Halithan understood and led his team down an alley and out of sight. I turned back to my men and leaned in close.
“Ok, follow me down the alley and we’re going to flank left to the rear of the school. Franks, you’ll come with me into the school with the charges and plant them on the biggest stack of ammo we can find and then bug out. When the charges go, we’ll draw the Commies our way which will signal Halithan to open up and create a crossfire. Let’s move.”
Before we could move to the alley, an explosion erupted from the opposite end of the block where the school was. Cries in Chinese rang out as rifle and machine gun fire cut through the frigid air. Swearing, I dropped down and scanned the street, seeing the checkpoint guards all turn away from us. Orange fire balls erupted near the school followed by long gouts of flame and tracers. Fishing out my binoculars, I scanned the street and spotted what was going on.
Walking through Chinese bullets and the swirls of fire were the lumbering figures of T-51b power armored infantry. Swinging handheld CZ53 personal miniguns and flamethrowers, referred to as flamers, the armored infantry cut a swath through the Chinese forces. While bullets bounced off their armor, the soldiers cut down all in their path with fearsome efficiency.
“[censored] it, let’s lend a hand!” I jumped up from cover and moved towards the checkpoint, rifle up and ready. My men followed and open fire, spraying the Chinese with bullets. I aimed at the nearest soldier and fired, stitching a line of bullets across his back in a mist of blood. One of our grenadiers chucked a grenade behind the sandbags, the resulting blast ripping off the legs of one soldier and the arm off another.
The others turned to fire, two managing to fire a handful of shots that all went wide. I killed a second, emptying my magazine into his chest for good measure. The last of the soldiers went down without any resistance.
“Chimera!” one of my men shouted as we reached the sandbags. The Chinese tank, with its laser turret spinning, rushed into the street from the schoolyard and swiveled to face the armored infantry. The advancing soldiers didn’t even break stride as two of them brought of missile launchers and fired, blowing the Chimera apart before it even fired.
“Hot damn!” Private Vickers whopped as he reloaded his 10mm SMG. “It never gets old seeing them fry up some Reds!”
I simply shook my head and reloaded my rifle. “Let’s keep moving and keep an eye out for the rest of the squad.” We moved up the street towards the fighting, but it was quickly becoming just a mop up. Most of the Chinese forces were killed, strewn about in bloody heaps on the street and sidewalks. The Chimera was destroyed, its engine somehow undamaged enough not to detonate, and the second was nowhere to be seen. Only a handful of shots popped here and there before silence filled the battlefield. My team carefully walked up to the dozen of armored infantry standing in front of the school securing the area.
One man stood out, captain’s bars painted on the center of his chest plate. Face hidden behind the black visors of the armor’s dome shaped helmet, he turned to us and held his laser rifle one handed, resting it against one of his massive shoulder plates. “You must be the original strike team,” he said, voice amplified and sounding mechanical.
I saluted and nodded, seeing the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor painted on one shoulder. “Sir, Lieutenant Ethan Chase, 40^th Marine Infantry.”
The captain returned to salute. “Captain Lance, 1^st Marine Power Armored Infantry. Sorry to have spoiled your fun, Lieutenant, but we were in the area and decided to [censored] slap some of these Chi-Coms.”
I glanced over at two his men carrying explosives into the school. “Yes, sir. We were moving into position when you arrived. I’m actually looking for the other half of my squad, sir.”
“Didn’t see any friendlies when we were approaching. You can go look for them, if you like.” He waved his free hand over his squad, “I think we’ve got it all covered here.”
The big guns making you arrogant, sir? I thought, biting my tongue. “Thank you, sir.”
Lance nodded and we saluted. Turing back to my men, I just shook my head slightly and led them towards the house I picked out for Halithan. “Eyes open, they have to be here somewhere.”
Vickers, stopping to pick up a Chinese pistol, laughed. “They sure missed one nice fight.”
“Enough with the souvenirs, kid,” Corporal Ramirez barked, smacking the pistol to the ground. He, like myself, was part of the fight since our unit arrived in ’69 and was weary of the attitude of the new recruits like Vickers. “One’s going to be rigged and blow your hand off.”
“I think I should get something after these bastards invaded our…” Vickers suddenly froze, his body rigid and hands shooting for his throat. I turned to see blood gushing from a deep gash running across his throat before the private fell to the ground. Without thinking I brought my rifle up and fired from the hip, spraying the empty air behind Vickers. Only, it wasn’t empty.
Bullets struck the air, sending up a shower of sparks as a ripple of air appeared. Sparks flew and the black shape of a Hei Gui, or Black Ghost, appeared and stumbled back, dropping to snow with a sword in hand.
“Crimson Dragoons!” I shouted as I jumped for cover. The others in my squad scrambled to get away from the body as the armored infantry froze and looked over at us. Suddenly there was a cry of pain as another one of my men fell to the ground, blood spreading across his chest. I spun and fired near the body, catching another stealth trooper. His stealth field dissolved and his black armor clad body appeared. Clutching a sword in one hand and pistol in the other, he stumbled and brought up the pistol to fire. Before he could, Lance burned away one side of his face with several shots of his laser rifle.
Machine gun fire erupted all around as nearly twenty of China’s elite Special Forces soldiers materialized in and around our position. Faces covered by orange face shields, they looked like some kind of bizarre alien from the comic books I read as a kid. They were quick and nimble, moving fast while firing off pistols and machine guns. In just a few seconds only Ramirez was left from my squad while the armored infantry tangled with the Dragoons.
Having faced them before, I moved fast and put my back to something solid, rifle up and ready. Ramirez was at my side and firing at the nearest Dragoon. We targeted the closest man, but they dodged our fire and weaved around the armored Marines, preventing us from hitting them. One lashed out with a sword, aiming for the small gap between the T-51b’s chest plate and helmet. The blade missed, glancing off the armored chest, and only knocking the Marine off balance.
Lance was at the center of the fray, dropping one Dragoon before having to reload with a fresh microfussion cell. A dragoon was on him in an instant, knocking the rifle away and driving a sword for his neck. Lance was quick, however, and batted the blade aside with one arm while drawing his laser pistol with the other. Red lances of light sprang from the pistol, burning through the Dragoon’s armor and slicing through flesh.
“On your left!” Ramirez yelled, ducking under my rifle and firing at a Dragoon charging towards us. He fired and took off part of the soldier’s head, dropping him.
I emptied my magazine and reloaded, eyes still on the fight. Two armored Marines went down, throats slit. Another took a full burst from a machine gun to his face, which fractured the protective eye glass and blinded him. Stunned, the Marine dropped his minigun and reached for his helmet, which let the Dragoon come in close and fire at his neck, which blew the Marine’s head clean off his shoulders. In other spots it had gone hand to hand, Marines and Dragoons fighting with combat knifes and swords. Power armor gave the user extra strength, tipping the balance in our favor.
I killed two more Dragoons before a third rushed me. Ramirez leapt up with an empty rifle and swung it like a club, hitting the Dragoon in the chest and knocking him on his ass. My rifle empty, I drew my 10mm sidearm and fired into his helmeted head, splitting it open in a shower of blood and bone. Now it was down to just five Dragoons, two of which were consumed in the rolling flame of a flamer. The remaining three, seeing there was no retreat, fought on like cornered animals. A minigun spooled up and fired, slicing one in half while an armored Marine tackled the last. There was a brief struggle before the Marine stood, his combat knife buried in the Dragoon’s throat.
I stood still, rifle reloaded and at my shoulder, and scanned for my targets. The other Marines remained in place with their weapons swinging back and forth. Lance stood with his pistol in one hand and laser rifle in the other, surveying the battlefield. Four of his men and two of mine were death with another three of his wounded.
“You hit, LT?” Ramirez asked, slipping off his helmet and balaclava.
I looked down at my white and gray armor, checking the chest and shoulder plates along with the forearm guards. Bits of shrapnel from ricochets peppered part of my chest, but I was unharmed. “I’m good, you?”
“Just peachy.”
I nodded slowly and took a breath, feeling the surge of adrenaline slow. “I have a bad feeling about Hal…” I don’t know what, but something made me turn to my left in time to see a slight glint of sunlight off of metal. For the briefest of moments I could see the ripples of air created by a stealth field before pain flared across my chest and warm blood ran across my skin. I tumbled back and hit the ground, eyes open long enough to see a Dragoon appear and be ripped to pieces by gun fire before the world disappeared.