Endgame (Fallout 4)

Chapter 2 - The Minutemen

Night held his breath as he stepped inside the old Freedom Museum, and immediately was greeted with a person turning on their heels to point a crudely made pipe pistol at him. This man was dressed similarly to the people outside, and Night figured these had to be the "raiders" the man was talking about.

Unfortunately for Night, his lack of solid combat experience over the last 210 years left him as a deer in the headlights, and he was sure he was going to die at that moment, before he could even begin asking questions about Shaun.

All of a sudden, the dog latched himself onto the man's arm, viciously ripping into flesh, and he served as the perfect distraction. Without another moment's hesitation, Night drew the laser musket, loaded the cells in and charged it twice, as indicated by the barrel glowing a bright, fusion-powered red, and he fired, essentially turning his enemy's head into dust.

Night moved up to pet the dog on the head, speaking praise to it before he heard a scream from upstairs. The entire center of the museum had pretty much collapsed to the floor, so he ducked into a side room to search for stairs. Slinging the musket over his back, he instead opted for his trusty pistol. He had always liked to do his combat light, fast and stealthy; where he could.

Prepared for anything, Night stepped into the next room, but was startled when lights flashed on and sound from a two-century old museum feature began blaring over the speakers. Night cursed to himself as it alerted a raider in the next room, and he was forced to duck behind a wooden display case as the raider emptied a clip trying to kill him. The inaccuracy and speed of the shots told Night that this person was inexperienced in battle, and once he went to reload, Night shot through the thin wooden wall the raider had taken cover behind, hearing a thud and a grunt as the bullet entered the raider's body. As he continued running through the rooms, he put one more bullet in the raider's head for good measure, then managed to locate a staircase.

Two more raiders awaited him upstairs, but having been a hardened war veteran, Night had automatically shut off all emotions and turned himself into a killing machine as he entered the room, and four bullets was all it took to take the two down, making sure they were dead.

Part of Night's mind was tearing at him, allowing his morality to try and make him feel bad for what he was doing, but he just reasoned with himself for now that these men had tried to kill him first. Night had never taken pleasure in taking the lives of others, even if it were mercy killing, as he had done many a time in the war. Yet here he was storming through a museum, taking life after life based on some stranger's word in a world he knew absolutely nothing about. But he didn't let these thought's break his focus.

He made it to the top floor, where there was little left than a thin, wooden walkway that lined the perimeter of the interior of the building, and he saw one more raider, attempting to kick in a door at the end of the walkway. One bullet to the back of the head, and he raider slumped back, his brains now decorating the blue door, that slowly opened once the commotion outside had died down.

A dark man, armed with a laser musket identical to the one Night was carrying, stepped out. He was of average size, and was wearing a pale duster, and what looked like an old - older than Night's time - Colonial soldier's hat. His dark brown eyes were desperate as he approached Night, who just stood there.

"I just killed all these people for you."

"I know, thank you," the man said softly, nodding his head.

"No, I just murdered these people. This better be good."

"These people were raiders," the man said again, almost as if Night were an idiot for ever having worried about it in the first place, "they were killers, and they would have slaughtered us too had you not showed up."

"They.. Wh- this world... It's so different, I-" Night trailed off.

"You alright?" the man asked, having picked up on the distant look in Night's eyes. "Anyway, I'm Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen."

"The Minutemen? Since when was that a thing again?"

"Well, I admit we've been out of action for a while now... I mean, a month ago there were twenty of us. Yesterday there were eight, and now we're five."

"I'm sorry..." Night offered his condolences, still not fully understanding the situation.

"Thanks, friend. I hate to ask you, but we need help. It won't be long until more raiders show up. We need help keeping them out..."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Let me introduce to you Sturges, my friend," Preston ushered Night into the small room, where he was confronted with a small group of people.

There were six in total, including Preston himself. Two seemed to be of Asian descent, judging by their appearances, and the accent as the man mumbled to himself while curled in a ball against a deal, and the other practically yelling at nobody as she paced the far end of the room. There was an older lady who was dressed like a gypsy, her withered appearance giving Night the impression she was either on some serious drugs or on death's door. Possibly both, he decided as he gazed for a moment into her hazy blue, bloodshot eyes.

The other man in the room was rather tall, and strong-looking. His hair was gelled back and his clothes covered in grease stains, almost as much so as his hands were. Scratching at his stubble, leaving a small grease mark, the man stepped forward with a smile.

"This is Sturges," Preston waved an arm to introduce the two, and Sturges stepped forward, extending a hand.

"Nice to meet you, and you are?"

"Night," he replied without hesitation, "pleasure to meet you, too."

"Night?" the woman pacing behind Sturges turned and spat at him, "what kind of stupid name is that?"

"Marcy, calm down," Preston shot the woman a glare, and she just scoffed.

"Anyway, we got an idea to get rid of those raiders and bust outta here for good, but we need some help," Sturges changed the subject.

"Just tell me what you need, I'll try and help," Night offered, eager to get the group's problems out of the way so he could ask about Shaun.

Of course there was always the option to leave Preston's group to their fate, but even in a world where, given Preston's comment on the "Commonwealth", was already full of cheaters, murderers and liars, Night couldn't bring himself to do so.

"See, this is where it gets tricky," Sturges continued, flicking a glance at Preston, "Preston here thinks it's ridiculous, but there's a minigun mounted on an old, pre-war Vertiberd that's crashed on the roof of a museum.

"If we can break than gun off, we can use it against those damn raiders and scare 'em off for good."

"And how do you expect to get it off that Vertiberd? The things are held on pretty tight," Night questioned, purposely avoiding the "pre-war" topic, which was probably fascinating to anyone else out there.

"Well, you see," Sturges rubbed his hands together, grinning, and Preston groaned.

"Not this again..." Preston whined, but both Night and Sturges remained focused on each other.

"We're gonna need power armor."