Fallout: Wasteland Doll Commander

The air was tense with the scent of scorched circuitry and ionized metal. Charlie Team had taken the high ground — a shattered rooftop helipad overlooking the sunken remains of pre-War Fort Hagen's Command Center. Smoke curled faintly from a dismantled synth casing tossed near the stairwell.

General Nate stood crouched beside the old rooftop access door, helmet off, rifle resting beside him. His eyes scanned the perimeter — lines tight with frustration.

A few meters away, Preston Garvey checked the bolt on his well-worn M1 Carbine, its polished walnut stock gleaming dully in the fading light. He shifted behind a half-buried HVAC unit, the largest available cover aside from rubble and wreckage.

Preston (muttering):"I don't like sitting still this long. We're exposed. Nothing but broken vents and prayer."

Nate (quietly):"Better here than bottlenecked below. but I don't like Synths gave up the ground too easy and fast retreat. That front door was completely sealed after we routed them."

Nick Valentine, coat smudged with soot, knelt beside a roof-mounted turret node, coaxing faded circuitry with an old tuning fork and reprogrammed holotape.

Nick (dryly):"Give me a second, I'm trying to convince these Cold War antique that we're the good guys. Or at least, the less-bad ones."

Sparks spat out once — then the turret's motors hummed to life. It swiveled slowly toward the treeline, then locked in an idle-ready state with a friendly IFF ping.

Charlie Squad Comm Link (Sgt. Harris):"The turret's online, General. We've got overwatch now."

Preston:"I'll take it. It's better than shouting at shadows."

He slung the M1 Carbine back over his shoulder and glanced toward the horizon. Despite its age, the rifle had been modified — a post-war scope bracket, reinforced sling, and several fresh magazines affixed to his belt.

Nick:"Heh, Ever try explaining synth politics to a minigun? It's like bribing a toaster with a philosophy degree."

A sharp whoop echoed from one of the Minutemen spotters on the ridge.

Minutemen Spotter (radio):"General, We have...umm a vehicle inbound from the East road! Low profile. I think the only proper working vehicle on the ground in commonwealth so far is our friendly..."

Nate stood, eyes narrowing as he stepped toward the ledge. Dust rose on the horizon as an armored Humvee — Ghost Mule — crested the ruined highway bend and rolled up with a mechanical growl. The turret was stowed, flags minimal. Z11 was behind the wheel, precision-smooth, while Team 404 flanked the sides on arrival.

The Humvee came to a halt, as it's brakes hissing.

Sarah stepped out first, coat flaring behind her in the cold crosswind. HK416 disembarked with sharp eyes already scanning turret angles. UMP45 lit a cigarette without looking, while 9 muttered something about rust and long walks. Z11 simply parked and powered down the engine, head tilting with eerie calm.

Sarah (stepping up to Nate):"Sorry for the delay. The Weston's stabilized. The water's flowing again."

Nate (relieved):"Good. Because we're going in blind."

Preston (nodding toward the steel-sealed bunker door):"They sealed that after we got here. Sandbag front with Heavy plating in the back. Welds still warm when we found it. Synths were guarding the entrance... but they not agrresive attacking. they Just holding till last synth."

Sarah:"So They're Stalling...."

Nick:"That's what I'm said. Smart ones, too. Not your standard mass-produced creeps. something advance"

Sarah turned to her squad.

Sarah:"Z11, keep Ghost Mule on standby for evac. 404, prep breach support. Anti-Rain's should be on final approach — once they land, we punch through."

HK416 (scanning rooftop):"Perimeter's too open. We'll have to push fast once that door comes down."

UMP45 (smirking):"Can't wait to see what kind of haunted basement the Institute calls home these days."

A sudden CRACK of energy shattered the dusk — a blue-white beam of plasma ripped across the rooftop, narrowly missing Sarah as it seared through a mounted turret. The turret exploded in a shower of metal and sparks.

HK416 flinched but snapped instantly into action, raising her rifle toward the south.

Sarah (barking):"Contact! South building — Greater Mass Blood Clinic! Nate, get down!"

She yanked her rifle up and dropped into a low crouch. G11, half-dozing behind a sandbag pile, sprang up with surprising speed, suppressing in the direction of the incoming fire.

Sarah:"HK416, G11 — lay down suppression! Light it up!"

HK416 (calmly):"Copy. Targeting rooftop heat signatures. Firing."

A staccato roar of return fire erupted from her rifle, controlled and deadly. G11's rifle rattled alongside, brass shells bouncing off the rooftop in a frenetic rhythm.

Sarah (on comm):"UMP9, UMP45! Cover Charlie Team! This roof is too exposed — sandbags aren't enough!"

UMP45 (already moving):"Copy that! 9, move your butt — Charlie's getting buried!"

UMP9:"I'm on it, I'm on it—don't chew me out on open comms!"

The two Dolls rushed to reinforce the scattered Minutemen, laying down mobile cover fire as synth lasers and ballistic rounds screamed overhead.

Sarah:"Preston! Take the General and Valentine down to the lower levels. Parking garage entrance should still be intact — move!"

Preston (tightening grip on his M1 Carbine):"You heard her, General! This way — keep low!"

Nate nodded once, then grabbed Nick's arm as they slipped down the cracked stairwell toward the lower level.

HK416 (scanning with thermal overlay):"Kommandant — south rooftop, four synths confirmed. But... they're not alone."

Sarah:"Meaning?"

HK416 (grim):"I see Sangvis Ferri tags. Heavy contacts. Confirmed Jaeger snipers and possible Alchemist-class support unit. This is not patrol units."

G11 (slouched behind sandbag, peeking):"Mmmmm. Jaegers are popping shots like it's target practice... We need to move or we're toast."

Sarah (muted, tense):"Where the hell did they come from? Could Kellogg be using an old SF Command Node inside Fort Hagen?"

UMP9 (replying over comms, breathless):"There was a weird signal burst from the bunker about five minutes before contact. Could be a reactivated node or... a relay spike?"

UMP45 (cutting in):"I told you those retrofitted Institute systems were too clean. Something down there's coordinating this. And it ain't synth-only anymore."

Charlie Team was breaking apart as soon as the synth start firing.

Two Minutemen were already down. A third screamed for a medic as his leg was shredded by synth plasma fire. A Jaeger opened up with high-velocity bursts, pinning down what was left of the rooftop support.

Preston gritted his teeth, blood streaked across his coat. He was braced atop the Ghost Mule's mounted .50 cal, eyes scanning through smoke.

Z11, seated in the Humvee's driver perch, leaned out with her SMG, laying down suppressive bursts to shield the wounded Minutemen being dragged into the cover behind the vehicle.

Z11 (calm):"Two more are critical. If we don't move, they won't make it."

Preston (gritting his jaw):"Damn it. We're not holding this position."

He hit the comm.

Preston:"Sarah! We're pulling back east. Too many wounded. Gonna link up with Delta Team — they're force-marching from treatment plant and they will be waiting at Fiddler's Green!"

Sarah (over comm, tight):"Understood. Preston, Cover that withdrawal. Take Ghost Mule. Z11, go with them — protect those men. Please"

Z11:"Command acknowledged. Defensive escort underway."

The Ghost Mule's engine growled as Z11 spun it into motion, its reinforced hull shielding the evac convoy as the survivors staggered into the bed and side benches. Preston unleashed a final salvo from the turret, tearing through a flanking synth squad before dropping down into the cabin.

UMP 9 and 45 drop some smoke and stun grenade at the synth, provide some cover for preston team safely evacuate.

The sky above Fort Hagen flared with burning tracer fire. Synths swarmed from the southern ridge, accompanied by Sangvis Ferri combat units — glinting black armor, glowing red optics. A Jaeger round tore through a sandbag near Sarah's cover, sending grit and debris across her visor.

Sarah (shouting into comm):"Dammit, There too many hostiles! They're begin saturating the approach!"

HK416:"Kommandant, our firing lanes are being suppressed. South elevation is compromise."

Sarah:"Copy. Nate, Nick — you have to move now. Breach the building. We can't spare anyone with you."

Nate (over radio, tense):"Are you serious?"

Sarah (firm):"Do it. While they're focused on us. I don't want die yet, Get that bastard kellog."

Nate didn't argue. He and Nick Valentine slipped into the lower stairwell, weaving between broken walls and debris toward the side utility door, now partially exposed.

Back on the rooftop, Sarah reloaded behind cover. Her voice was hard over the comm.

Sarah:"404 — hold this line. Reinforcements are inbound. Nate and Valentine are inside. We finish this once Anti-Rain lands."

G11 (groaning):"Ummm, This isn't a holding action anymore. This is a freaking scrap grinder."

HK416 (calmly):"Then we be the one that hold the grinder."