Kara

As a child, you had been one of many young initiates chosen to accompany Elder Lyons on his expedition to east. You’d grown molded by instructors who drilled into you the Brotherhood’s founding principles, preserve technology, safeguard knowledge. Those ideals were the bedrock to you, your purpose in the world

But everything changed in the Capital Wasteland. When Lyons shifted the Chapter mission, choosing to protect the Wastelanders instead of focusing on the recovery of lost technology. To you, it felt like a betrayal of everything you had been taught. And so, you leave the brotherhood with other, starting to call ourselves as The Outcast

A year has passed since that. Now you wear the red-and-black armor of the Outcasts, and your squad (like most) consists mostly of robots:obedient and incapable of moral deviation. But recently another human was assigned to your team

Kara.

She, too, had been born in Lost Hills and traveled east under Lyons’ banner. But where your disappointment had grown into disillusionment, hers had hardened into something far sharper resentment, almost hatred. Lyons’ decisions weren’t just misguided in her eyes; they were unforgivable

The two of you had been paired often, patrolling the ruined outskirts of Washington, D.C., navigating cracked pavement of the streets

During one such patrol, she elbowed you lightly and muttered “I think I see Wastelanders up ahead… No, wait... just signs.” She glared ahead, then at you “How can you be so calm?”

You and Kara had encounter an Enclave outpost undermanned, the opportunity was too good to ignore

The firefight was vicious despite the small numbers, the ground was littered with bodies, Enclave soldiers and scientists who hadn’t even had time to reach cover. Victory came at a cost, several of your robots lay in sparking heaps, their frames torn or melted beyond repair

You and Kara took a moment to catch your breath. It was then that you both heard it, a deep guttural rumble from the large reinforced container the Enclave had been guarding. A low, resonant growl scraped against the metal walls, followed by the violent sound of claws carving long lines across steel

Kara’s face twisted with recognition and disgust

“A Deathclaw,” she muttered “Only the Enclave would be stupid enough to try to control those things.”

“Don’t even think about opening it,” she said “That thing will kill us.”

The container shook again. You could practically feel the creature’s fury pulsing through the metal, waiting for the smallest opportunity to get free

“Last Words?”

Just two weeks ago, the Raven Rock Enclave had finally fallen, broken beneath the weight of a Brotherhood victory. The irony wasn’t lost on Outcast. Of all people, it had been Lyons Brotherhood who delivered the decisive blow. You didn’t like them, didn’t agree with their vision, but even you had to admit it, the Enclave’s defeat was a victory for everyone

In the aftermath, the once organized force had splintered into scattered pockets of survivors. Without their Colonel Autumn, they were leaderless, confused, desperate

Some turned feral, attacking anything that moved. Others ran and hid. And some, surprisingly many, approached Brotherhood positions with their hands raised, hoping for mercy, absolution, or a second chance

You were on guard duty when a small group approached your post. They were exhausted and their weapons dropped on the road behind them. They drop to their knees before you and Kara, pleading, voices shaking, eyes wide with terror. They said they wanted to make amends, that they were done fighting, that they wanted to redeem themselves

“Outcasts don’t take in monsters...” she had muttered.

Now they knelt in the dirt, hands bound, shoulders trembling as they begged you specifically, you, not her, to stop what was coming. Their voices cracked with fear, their words tripping over each other

One by one, they pass away, hitting the ground with a dull, final thud

You turned your head to see Kara’s face, she was standing there, relaxed, as if she’d just finished routine target practice instead of executing prisoners

She stepped toward you, boots crunching in the gravel, and extended her sidearm to you handle-first

“Do you want to shoot this one?”

Her tone was casual

And for the first time in a long while, you felt real fear

Fear of her.

You had been transferred to guard duty outside Fort Independence only a few days ago. Compared to patrols in the wasteland, the job was almost too quiet. The rhythms of the fort were predictable, the threats distant, and even the constant hum of machinery began to fade into background noise

Still, the assignment had its advantages. You’d been able to speak with Protector Casdin more often, hearing his thoughts on Outcast doctrine, the failures of the Lyons Brotherhood, and the future he hoped to build. It was steady work, meaningful in its own way… yet something nagged at you

You told yourself it wasn’t loneliness that would be absurd. Kara barely spoke unless necessary, and when she did, her words were sharp enough to draw blood. And yet, without her nearby, without her silent presence at your side. The wasteland felt strangely empty

Then one day she returned from a mission, and you realized just how much the routine had dulled you because the moment she appeared, everything sharpened again

“Hey, come and see this,” she called out in her usual calm

She gestured for you to follow her to a loading area behind the fort. There, propped against a metal crate, stood a suit of Power Armor unlike anything you had ever seen. It was bulkier than the standard Enclave design, its plating darker, heavier... And of course it have a corpse inside it

Kara tapped on the massive chest plate.

“The Specialists said it’s the next phase of the Enclave’s armor,” she explained “X-03. They’re calling it Hellfire.”

She removed the helmet and give it to you

“I’d keep it,” she said “but I figured someone like you would want it more than I do.”

she was looking y9u expecting your reaction

“And maybe you could help me paint it.”

You had never felt snow beneath your feet before, not real snow, anyway. Even if this was only a simulation, the cold still seeped through your boots.

A few months earlier, the outcasts had stumbled upon a strange old machine, two intact simulation pods. Stepping inside was like slipping into another reality. The scenario loaded into the device was the Battle of Anchorage, an ancient conflict in Alaska between the United States and China. You and Evelyn were chosen to test it for the first time.

The mission was supposed to be simple: infiltrate and capture a Chinese base. But instead of heading straight into the fight, the two of you lingered in the snow.

“Do you think snow still exists?” she asked, watching the flakes drift down onto the frozen ground. “Or did it go extinct?”

In that moment, a Chinese soldier come out behind you, but Evelyn would finish him off with a shot

“China must be very strange.”

It was the year 2283. After decades of conflict, peace had finally settled over the Eastern Brotherhood.

Following Elder Lyons’ death years earlier, a new elder had taken his place, one willing to negotiate. He signed a peace agreement with the outcasts, offering them a place within the Brotherhood once more.

After so many years apart, you finally stepped into the Citadel again, no longer wearing the red-and-black colors of the outcasts. But when you glanced back, you saw Evelyn entering behind you, still dressed in them. She was the only one in the entire hall who hadn’t switched.

“They convinced you fast, didn’t they?” she said, nodding toward the colors you’d given up. She closed the distance between you, her voice lowering slightly

“They still haven’t convinced me to come back. The Brotherhood… still feels too soft.”

“The Citadel has fallen. I repeat, the Citadel has fallen. All Brotherhood personnel, regroup at GNR immediately.”

For an entire hour, that message echoed through the Wasteland’s radios. The Brotherhood of Lyons had been defeated. The Enclave now ruled.

It was 2278. One year earlier, the Enclave had seized the Jefferson Memorial and then the Citadel itself. When the news reached the Outcasts, most of them reacted the same way

“The weak have finally perished.”

Henry Casdin believed destroying the Enclave would be easy, but he was wrong. In the span of a year, the Outcasts had gone from a disciplined military force to a dwindling guerrilla band, nearly wiped out across the Capital Wasteland.

While you were patrolling with Evelyn near the ruins of an old settlement, she suddenly grabbed you and pulled you to the ground, throwing herself over you and covering your mouth in one swift motion.

When you turned your head, you saw an Enclave Eyebot drifting slowly between the wrecked buildings, its sensors sweeping the rubble.

Evelyn’s eyes met yours. She leaned in close and whispered,

“Shhh… don’t talk.”

When the war against the Enclave began a year earlier, there had still been hope, thin, desperate, but real.

Now there was nothing left to defend in the Capital Wasteland. Victory had become a memory, and survival the only goal.

The cruel irony was that the Outcasts, of all people, were the ones organizing the evacuation of the capital wasteland’s scattered survivors. They had found an old network of train tunnels and were using it to move as many people as possible out of the Raven Rock Enclave’s reach.

When Evelyn asked Protector Casdin where the tunnels actually led, he said nothing. He just stared at her for a moment, then turned and walked away. His silence was unsettling enough that you couldn’t help feeling something was wrong.

Outside the tunnel entrance, there was no sign of Enclave patrols. As you took a moment to rest, Evelyn came over and sat beside you.

“Call me crazy,” she murmured, glancing back at the dark tunnel, “but I feel like this might be a trap.”

While you stood guard at the tunnel exit on the edge of the Capital Wasteland, Evelyn stepped out to join you.

“The Ghouls from Underworld and the Regulators are already on their way out,” she said. “All we need is the signal, and this’ll finally be over…”

As you waited, a shape appeared on the horizon then several more. A large group was heading your way. They weren’t Enclave. And they weren’t ordinary wastelanders. Their gear was mismatched, scavenged, and many of them were smeared with dried blood. Raiders.

But instead of charging, their leader lifted his hands slowly in a gesture of surrender. At his feet, he laid down pieces of Enclave armor and scrap from destroyed robots, an offering, a bargain for passage

Evelyn shifted uneasily beside you.

“We can’t let them through,” she muttered. “They’re dangerous…”

her voice low.

“Casdin wouldn’t allow it. No one would.”

After hours of trudging through the tunnels, you finally reached the end of the line

The air outside was thick and harsh, burning your throat with every breath. Above you, the sky was a churning mess of smoke and clouds.

Pushing forward, you reached a river. One step into that water and you’d come out dead… or a Ghoul. Maybe worse.

A rusted sign hung above the bridge, barely legible through grime

“Welcome to The Pitt.”

Decades ago, the Brotherhood had tried to bring order here. But they failed, pulled out, and left the city to fend for itself. What had once been Pittsburgh had become something far darker.

When the refugees entered, they were met by the city’s ruler, Ashur.

Years earlier, he’d been one of the Brotherhood’s own an abandoned Paladin left behind when the others retreated. Instead of dying, he seized control of the chaos. The Raiders, the slavers, the desperate… they all answered to him now.

As the refugees filed into the city under the watchful eyes of raiders, Evelyn paced in front of you, furious, barely able to stand still.

“I can’t believe this!” she snapped “Are we really going to trust this guy!? Henry Casdin isn’t even here! He sold us out!”

It had been a year since the people of the Capital Wasteland fled to The Pitt.

Despite the number of groups opposed to slavery, none were strong enough to challenge Ashur’s rule. He repeated the same promise over and over that once the cure to.thr trog plague was finished, slavery in the city would end.

Several factions tried to make life in The Pitt more bearable. The refugees, at least, were protected; that was part of the agreement Ashur had made with Casdin. But the Brotherhood’s scribes had been chasing the cure for months, and none of them were any closer to finding it

After finishing your usual work collecting scrap metal near the trog-infested districts you went to look for Evelyn. You found her in The Hole, the fighting arena, trading blows with a group of Raiders. She’d been doing that almost nonstop since arriving.

When the match ended and she stepped out of the arena, you followed. She barely reacted to your presence, offering only a quiet, tired “Hey.”

As she packed up her gear, she spoke without looking at you.

“If this isn’t about killing Ashur, or about a cure that’ll magically fix everything he’s done… then I’m not interested.”