I stirred awake with a dull throb behind my eyes and the bitter taste of metal lingering in my mouth. Sunlight filtered gently through a cracked windowpane, casting amber lines across the living room of a pre-war house. Judging by the warmth, it was either dawn or dusk—though I had no idea how long I'd been out.
Outside, I caught sight of familiar silhouettes moving with precision. Team 404.
Before I could sit up fully, G11 spotted me and rushed in. She nearly tackled me with a sudden hug.
"Commander, you're awake—sniff—I didn't take a long nap this time, I swear…"
The rest of the squad soon followed, gathering around with rare concern etched on their faces.
I gave G11 a tired smile and gently patted her head. "There, there… I'm alright." Then I turned toward the more composed of the group. "416, sitrep."
HK416 straightened. "Yes, Kommandant. Current local time: 06:45 AM. One engine on the Vertibird is critically damaged. We're unable to repair it—workshop access is locked behind RobCo's proprietary Pip-Boy authorization."
I sighed. "So not even SHD protocols or T-Doll tech can crack it? Gotta love American exceptionalism. RobCo and their damned wonder-locks."
416 lowered her eyes slightly. "Apologies for not meeting your expectations."
I shook my head. "You did fine. I'm the one who led us into Quincy."
I turned to the rest of 404. "Area secured?"
UMP45 offered a lazy thumbs-up. "Ja, ja. We went house to house. Clear."
UMP9, less enthusiastic, wrinkled her nose. "There were… bugs. And rodents. Gross."
Worried that the Minutemen might truly be gone, I used the uplink node hidden beneath the sanctuary bridge to radio in a squad of mass-produced T-Dolls from our northern relay. Two hours later, the distant thunder of rotor blades announced their arrival—three unmarked Vertibirds swept in low, kicking up dust and scattered leaves as they deployed six T-Dolls and one… unexpected guest.
A logistics officer in a red vest stepped off the final bird—Mayling. And judging by her sway, slightly drunk.
I crossed my arms. "Mayling? I didn't request you. What are you doing here?"
She hiccupped, smiling crookedly. "Ehhh~ Since we lost the Minutemen HQ and the central Fabricator, there's not much to fix back home. Sooo~ I figured I'd come open shop here."
I sighed. "I'm not even going to argue."
I turned to the six support Dolls. "Two of you—help Mayling set up a tent store. The rest, secure the perimeter. We're digging in."
With that done, I gathered Team 404 and gestured toward the hill.
"Come on. If that Mr. Handy—Codsworth—is right, Vault 111 is nearby. I want whatever Pip-Boy software's inside."
The short hike up the slope was littered with cracked pavement, scattered debris, and old skeletons long turned to dust. A rusted command station stood beside the Vault's signature circular platform, half-buried in leaves.
UMP9 and 45, ever curious, poked at the controls—until 45 smacked a prominent red button.
The elevator roared to life beneath my feet.
Alarms blared. The platform lurched downward.
"Wha—!?" G11 jumped beside me, startled, while 416 instinctively raised her rifle, eyes scanning the tree line.
Seeing us descend, UMP9 yelped and leapt onto the platform with her sister just in time, nearly tripping over G11's coat.
I exhaled, watching the sky shrink above us as the old vault swallowed us whole.
"Well…" I muttered, resting a hand on my holster.
"Looks like we're going into the abyss."