At The Precipice Of Something New

Something Diverting

The Commonwealth
July the 8th, 2288
16:29

More than anything else, working with the people of the Commonwealth directly and hearing them want to help each other reminded Preston Garvey why he had to keep going, why he had dedicated his life to being one of the Minutemen.

Though their group had thinned with several members opting to stay behind at a couple of their stops to help either defend or build at settlements supporting their cause, Preston was certain those still travelling northeast towards a small farm which had requested their aid were at no higher risk for attack than usual. At lower risk, even, than they had been just a year prior. Sombre as the memory of Quincy was, it was also becoming further and further away, getting ever closer to being a year removed from the day the gunners attacked; it was not the end and, while it had felt it might be then, things were looking up. The Finch family were able to be reunited, and their son learnt why being a raider helps no one, not even oneself. The couple at Oberland Station are building a small safehouse for people to stay in if needed while travelling the Commonwealth. The Abernathy family have been able to receive closure on the loss of one of their own. The people of University Point don't have to worry about unwanted attack or intrusion by the Brotherhood again, although... University Point. Knowing the people of the town were safe, and the security provided to them by the Minutemen would help deter the Brotherhood, was a relief. Knowing they were, even minorly, siding with the Institute, however, was unnerving. The woman there, too, the woman who brought the girl from the town home during visits away from the Institute had left him with far more questions than answers, some of which he was unsure he wanted to know the answers to.

The only thing clear about the Institute to him, now, was the fact they were, at least to some extent, willing to work with the people of the Commonwealth but why they wouldn't do so more openly was something he couldn't understand.

For as uncomfortable as it was knowing they were, even marginally, on the same page as the Institute for even one thing was, keeping people safe was what mattered most. If the Institute began hurting people in the settlements they were duty bound to protect – including University Point – then they would do what was necessary to protect the people and nothing more. It wasn't only the Institute he had set the rule for. Still can't believe I'm the General of the Minutemen, but I'll do what I have to in order to keep us from falling apart, especially with so many people threatening the innocent people of the Commonwealth. They need protection, and no one can defend themselves completely alone. We all need each other. Passing by an old brewery and onto a bridge into the once intellectually thriving Cambridge area, Preston reached for his musket, hearing the sounds of heavy gunfire growing closer and closer until it was all but consuming the noise in the air when they reached the other side of the bridge. Waiting for the noise to subside, he looked between his companions. Sturges, though he had a gun at the ready, was slowly moving ahead of them to get a first glance over what lay ahead. Derek reloaded his shotgun. Codsworth swiftly followed after Sturges to survey the area. When the noise significantly abated after a few minutes, Preston and Derek shared a long, knowing look before reconvening with the rest of the Minutemen with them, Sturges, and Codsworth.

Reaching one of the main roads cutting through Cambridge, the group paused, a moment, at the sight of carcass after carcass of feral ghouls littering the sides of the roads, all in varying states of decay. Several of the Minutemen grimaced, taken by surprise at the smell of death, and Preston, too, stopped for a moment. Though he quickly regained himself, something about the sight left him unnerved, and he tried not to dwell on it or the thoughts it gave him. This was clearly a fight, a lot of them probably ended up killing each other. It's a horrible fate, and it wasn't their fault. It was the War, and the fog. The fog. The second the words came to him, he pushed them away. It was partly cloudy, though not particularly wet. It was a normal day, a normal, quite warm, summer's day in the Commonwealth. The air was clear, the only haze coming from the lingering scent and colour of gunpowder left from the fight. Taking a look at the people around them as they walked, Preston only raised an eyebrow, startled, when he saw many of them were wearing similar uniforms. They took note of him and the Minutemen every so often, but more, it seemed, the closer they got to what he, as a best guess, supposed might have been a police station before the War. It was only when he noticed the serious, reconstructive efforts taken and going on at the building he found himself truly unsettled, not by the efforts themselves but by the people who were taking them on. About to pass the police station by, he took a few steps back when two men in power armour and a woman in uniform stepped in front of their path, stopping them in their tracks and eyeing all of them critically.