Fallout: Wasteland Doll Commander

Rain tapped steadily against the half-raised canopy, strung between rusted concession poles once meant for soft drinks and cinema dreams. The old drive-in screen loomed above, ghost-white in the lightning flashes—a monument to a dead world. Below it, sandbags, scavenged crates, and salvaged turrets surrounded what had swiftly become more than a battlefield.

In just under forty-eight hours, Starlight Drive-In had become the Minutemen's first real foothold—a forward operating base built with sweat, precision, and stubborn resolve.

Sarah stood over a creased map spread across a crate, fingers tracing faint ink lines between Concord, Lexington, and beyond. ISAC's soft ambient glow shimmered from her wrist unit. Lightning flickered again, throwing the lines into stark relief.

Nate approached, shrugging off his rain-slicked coat. His patched Vault suit armor still bore the blackened scars of the Deathclaw fight. Behind him, Preston carried a folded tarp, glancing across the growing camp.

Nate:"Starlight are now secure. Turrets calibrated, scouts pulling rotations. Feels like… something real finally taking root."

Sarah (nodding):"One foothold doesn't make a front. But it's how they start anyway."

Preston:"You've done more in a week than most of us managed in a year. Not gonna lie—I had my doubts. But seeing those T-Dolls fight alongside settlers? It's a different kind of hope."

Sarah said nothing for a moment. Rain trickled off her shoulder pads. Then she looked up, expression calm—eyes hard.

Sarah:"Hope is fragile when it rides on those who don't get to die."

Nate (frowning):"Meaning?"

Sarah:"The Dolls. My team. They obey. They endure. But they don't rebuild. They don't teach kids how to farm or choose to stay when things get hard. The people out here… they have conviction. That's what the Commonwealth truly needs."

Preston:"That why you want Nate wearing the General's star? Because he's not a weapon?"

Sarah's answer came with a thin smile—quiet, but genuine.

Sarah:"No. Because he is one… but he remembers why he fighting for."

Nate looked past the camp fence—beyond the light, to the distant shadows where Lexington waited like a crouched beast. He exhaled slowly.

Nate:"I'm not even sure who I am yet. Just that I want this to matter. If I can find Shaun and rebuild something better along the way… then maybe that's enough."

Sarah folded the map cleanly, sealing the coordinates under her palm.

Sarah:"Then we move forward together. I'll have 404 on standby. You call the shot when Lexington's ready."

Thunder rolled above as Sarah turned toward the radio tent, her command team already beginning the next cycle of planning. Starlight's floodlights flickered on.

Sarah (glancing at the terminal flickering to life):"Huh. Looks like Concord's power grid stretches all the way out here. That'll make things easy. no need to drag clunky generator from sanctuary."

The overhead floodlights kicked in with a low hum, throwing warm light over the drive-in lot. Around them, patrols moved between makeshift tents and stacked sandbags, gear glinting in the soft rain. The old world was waking up—piece by piece.

Preston (watching new recruits jogging drills at the camp edge):"More people are joining up every day. Concord's solid, Sanctuary's expanding, and Abernathy Farm just sent another cart of crops and ammo. Even Tenpines Bluff's showing interest."

He glanced at a folded list tucked in his coat.

Preston:"We've got enough volunteers now to form another squad. Between skirmishes and recon, two formations won't cut it for long."

Sarah (nodding):"Then form one or two. Start drawing from the Sanctuary and Concord rotation. You've got field-tested men now."

She stepped closer to the map crate and tapped at a digital overlay—a Division-projected display flickering from her wristband.

Sarah:"Just remember, Preston—Division assets and supplies come with conditions. We can't afford to hand out gear for free. Not if we want to keep up the appearance."

Preston (frowning slightly):"Even now? After everything your team's done?"

Sarah (firmly but not unkind):"Yes. Publicly, we're just a mercenary outfit as cover front, black contracts, quiet logistics. If people start thinking we're here out of charity—or worse, with some hidden motive—they'll turn on us in the moment a whisper spreads."

Nate (stepping in, arms crossed):"She's right. This only works if it looks fair. Reasonable trade for reasonable support."

Sarah:"Exactly. Mayling's shop runs with full inventory tracking. Weapons, armor, even drone recon support—priced fair, discounted for Minutemen. But there needs to be caps on the table. That's how the Commonwealth sees trust now."

Preston (reluctantly nodding):"Caps for bullets. It's not really how I pictured on rebuilding, but I get it. We do what we have to."

Sarah:"Start assigning requisition officers. Keep it clean. Keep it accountable. If the Minutemen look like they've got a blank check, you'll get opportunists, not patriots."

Nate (grinning faintly):"Then we'll build it right way this time. One squad at a time."