Fallout: Wasteland Doll Commander

Corvega Assembly Plant – Jared's Command Catwalk

Rain tapped against the cracked skylight above Jared's perch as he gripped the rusted railing, knuckles white. Below, his raiders barked orders and dragged crates of chems and old munitions into firing positions. Corvega's metal guts thrummed with tension.

A scout burst through the side hatch, soaked and gasping.

Scout:

"Boss! BOSS!!! We got movement—Minutemen banners. They've set up shop at Starlight. Drove us off from the west hills near the water tower."

Jared turned slowly, eyes bloodshot, twitch in his cheek flaring.

Jared:

"The Minutemen? Thought we stomped 'em out when they travel from Quincy."

Scout (nervous):

"Not these ones. They've got gear. Discipline. And… uh… synths. no no..not the chrome dome one....Dolls..ummm..yes yes that one..... The kind that move like shadows and don't miss."

That stopped Jared cold.

He remembered the first whisper—months ago—of a black-clad woman with no rank insignia and orange glowing watch and gears. leading silent metal killers across the battlefield. He'd ignored it then. Thought it one of chem-triping tall tales.

But now? Concord fell silent. Not a peep from the crews he sent to grab that old hag—Mama Murphy—after she was spotted with Preston's group. His best tracking team never came back.

And then came the nightmares. Drones buzzing overhead. Patrols too clean. Shots too surgical.

Jared (low, venomous):

"So.....so she's real. huhuhu The Dollmaster."

He spat off the catwalk and kicked over a half-empty crate of Jet.

Jared (to his lieutenants):

"SO they're not playing farmer games anymore. Someone's backing 'em—with such coordination, heavy firepower. And I know who she wants."

He leaned against the railing, voice growing darker.

Jared:

"They're looking for the witch as well. I don't care if she's a hundred years old or flying on spirit juice—I want MAMA MURPHY dragged here. Alive."

He turned, grabbing a dented radio receiver from the shelf behind him. Static whined before he keyed it.

Jared (to all frequencies):

"Black Vultures. Forged,. Chainsaw Jack. Anyone still breathing east of Cambridge—get to Lexington. I'm calling in every favor. We're gonna turn this city into a fortress."

His voice dropped, twisted with venom and fear.

Open Channel – Raider Frequency 17.8

[Static… then a low, gravelly voice cuts in.]

Chainsaw Jack (grinning):"Well, well... the self made king Jared finally crawlin' for help. Thought Corvega was your throne, So~ Your Highness. What happened? Did The Minutemen ghost haunting you too?"

Jared (gritted teeth):"Not ghosts. Machine Dolls!!!! The Dollmaster's here!!!! She's building an army at Starlight!!! You wanna wait until she's got air support and orbital lasers too?!!!"

Chainsaw Jack:"Hah! You always did have a flair for drama. Alright, I'll play. Got a few psychos itchin' for a warmup before we hit Bunker Hill. But I want payment—chems and clean mags. We roll in a week."

[Another voice crackles in—tense, fast.]

Black Vulture Scout Leader:"No deal, Jared. You think this is all about Minutemen? You're forgetting what crawls outside your factory gates. It's fucking Lexington's a graveyard. We lost two squads to ferals last week just trying to reach the Super Duper Mart. They don't care if you fly a which flag or scream for help—they DEVOUR everything."

Jared (snaps):"Then stay in your FUCKING rotting nest, Vultures. I'll remember who stood tall when the flames came."

[Another voice joins—hoarse, fanatical.]

Ashbrand, Herald of the Forged:"You speak of machines. We care none of it. The Forged do not fear fire—or steel. But if we march, we march with tribute. Bring us a worthy offering. Oil, scrap, and blood. or The so called Dollmaster's bones would suffice."

Jared (after a pause):"You'll get your fire, Ashbrand. Plenty of it!!!"

[Silence. Jared cuts the signal.]

He slammed the receiver down causing some clutters drop on the floor, rage simmering beneath the surface.

Jared (to himself):"Fine! Let them question my FUCKING sanity. When I get that so called Dollmaster burns on the stick, with her tin soldiers fall in the ash, they will all come crawling to Corvega."