Somewhere South of Boston, a gang of raiders slowly make there way across the swamp near Murkwater Construction Site at the dead of night. Ahead of the group, the raiding leader stops them with a raised hand as he pulls out a pipe rifle with a scope. As he scans the distant settlement, he spots half a dozen homes surrounding the construction site. A lone settler walking between the makeshift buildings until he retreats into one. The leader lowers his rifle as he sports a wicked grin.

Signalling his party forward, they soon arrive just outside the settlement. With the intent to kill and steal. Silently rushing between the shed-like homes, the leader picks out a random building and checks the door. Unlocked.

Before he could open the door, suddenly spot lights flash to life on the roofs and aim at the raiders. The door that the lead raider was at quickly swings open and catches his attention. Standing right infront of him is a Minuteman in a full set of T-45 power armor. The Minutemen logo right on the chest piece. He points a combat rifle at the raider's chest and empties a few rounds in him.

Bursting out from the rest of the homes, more Minutemen soon gun down the remaining raiders with bullets and lasers. All easily seen with the spot lights. With the last of them riddled or reduced to ash, one raider tries to crawl away from the short onslaught. The MM in the power armor plants an iron boot on his back and fires a round in the raider's head.

With all the raiders brutally mowed down, the Minutemen regroup with the one in PA. An occupant of the settlement walks up to him.

Settler: Thanks for your help with those raiders!

MM: No problem. You'd think they'd learn that scouting isn't just "stand there in the open and stare at us and head back."

Settler: Honestly, we didn't know what to do if they showed up.

MM:....... Seriously? You didn't know what to do with raiders after you were given combat training, handed improved weapons and armor, and given a few turrets for larger threats?

Settler: Anyway, we appreciate the help.

He hands them some caps for their aid and soon heads off to bed.

MM: I'm starting to understand why the General gets pissed off so much.

With their task complete, the Minutemen return to a nearby outpost to make their report.

[Location: Boston]

As raiders enjoy a drink and show in the cesspool known as the Combat Zone, two raiders are outside trying to wash off graffiti on their sign. The words "FUCKINGMAS ASSHOLEACUS" a bit hard to scrub out. Meanwhile inside, a bartender hands out some beers to a raider. Grabbing them, he walks over to his companions and hands out the drinks.

R1: Welp, we're absolutely fucked.

R2: That's one way to start a conversation.

R3: What's up?

R1: We gotta get the fuck out of the Commonwealth! We got those Brotherhood fucks barging in like they own the place, and the Minutemen have been getting more tough with that General guy leading them. Seriously, they're almost hellbent on killing us all!

R3: Just leave? What about our crew?

R1: Half of them are dead, and the rest are scared shitless. Me included. And we're gonna end up like the first half if we stay any longer. Now, I don't know about you two, but I've heard of some gangs up West that took over some kind of fortress or something. First chance I get, I'm heading there to join.

As the three continue their conversation, a woman takes a large swig back at the bar. Her slightly unkempt hair just barely touching her shoulders. Clearly another raider in the entire establishment. Another raider walks up to the bar and takes a seat next to her. Without looking to her, he orders a beer and starts talking.

Lieutenant: It ain't much, but I convinced a few more to join our gang. Most of them seem more interested in leaving the Commonwealth than help fight the Minutemen... What's our next move, Heather?

The woman sets her drink on the counter and just stares ahead. She thinks back all those weeks ago, back when she rolled with her old crew. Every last one of them killed in one day by that bastard in blue... All for one bobby pin.

Heather: We keep recruiting. Try to convince other gangs to join us. If they refuse to play ball, we hit them by surprise, kill a few of them, then take in the ones that don't want to die.

Lieutenant: A pretty sound idea, with only one giant problem. Even if we look for more outside of Cambridge, the Minutemen have reach almost all across Boston. Most of the other raiders will be dead before we get to them.

Heather: Then we'll work outside of Boston. New York, Rhode Island, Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine. The Minutemen want to protect Boston? Fine. We'll just work around them until we're choking them with our numbers.

Lieutenant: That might take months. Years, maybe.

Heather: I've got time.

She brings the bottle up to her lips and takes another large gulp, slamming it back down onto the table.

Heather: I've got all the time in the world for payback.

[Location: Fort Hagen Satellite Array]

Within an underground facility, the Minutemen go about their duties as they refurbish the old Rust Devils lair. Deeper inside, a Minuteman captain checks through inventory with two other soldiers.

Captain: Let's see. 8 sets of combat armor, ranging from light to heavy. 10 combat rifles. 400 .45 ammo. 6 assault rifles. 200 5.56 ammo.

Soldier1: We got an additional thirty from a scavange party up North.

Captain: Two hundred and thirty 5.56 ammo. 3 laser rifles. 100 fusion cells. And 1 plasma rifle with not enough ammo for it to be worth a damn.

Just outside, another Minuteman soldier rushes into the room.

Soldier2: Captain! We have a problem!

Captain: What is it? Rust Devils again?

Soldier2: No, sir. We've spotted a group heading our way.

Captain: Raiders? Gunners?

Soldier2: Brotherhood of Steel, sir.

Captain: Brotherhood? The hell do they want? We don't have any tech for them to swipe. Even if we did, we would be putting them to better use then those calculator snatchers.

Soldier2: What are your orders?

Captain: I'll talk to these assholes. If things go South, set off the charges at the front. Just get ready for a fight. I honestly don't trust these guys as much as the General does.

Speaking of a certain vault dweller, as the Captain goes to have a chat with the BoS, (y/n) can be found walking through the Commonwealth city. Decked out in a full set of T-51 power armor. He guns down the occasional raider, supermutants, and makes his way to a small church he's been to previously.

He walks through the doors, stepping over a few dead ghouls, taken care of the first time he came through. Down a tomb he's passed several times to meet a group of people he has had the pleasure to work with...

As he passes through a dark room lit up with flood lights, he walks through a door and is greeted by not only a stairway leading down, but also greeted by a member of the secretive Railroad, Drummer Boy.

DB: There's a drop box waiting for you, Wanderer.

Just like, Drummer Boy walks off to another task in the secret base. (Y/n), or Wanderer as he is called, just stands at the top of the stairs. Squeezing the automatic laser rifle tightly in his grip. Thinking over and over on how he got to where he is now.

After weeks of searching, (y/n) was not only able to infiltrate the Institute, but reunite with his missing son...... His sixty year old son. Along the way, he has made many friends to accomplish what he needed. The secretive Railroad, the vigilant Brotherhood of Steel, the lively denizens of Diamond City, and many more all over the Commonwealth.

He was given a chance to not only talk to his son, the leader of the Institute, but also several others within the advance community. However, the more he talked with them, the more he thought of the whole situation. And finally... seeing the big picture. The Institute, although completely immoral in their methods, are more than capable of saving not only the Commonwealth, but the entire Wasteland if pushed in the right direction.

Raiders will always be a problem unless faced with an even greater threat to them. The Railroad are good people, but their only concerns are the synths. The BoS only care about the technology, whether they can hoard or destroy it... The Minutemen, although small now, are just as capable to help make the Commonwealth better under (y/n)'s command.

So now, with his son's words replaying in his head, (y/n) makes his way down to the Railroad base... Spotting Desdemona, with nobody else paying him any mind, he raises his laser rifle and takes aim.....

[Location: Somerville Place]

Boy: And then what happened?!

Sitting inside a small house, two children listen with baited breath for the author to continue the story.

Girl: Yeah, what happens next?

The author, sitting in a chair across from them sports a small grin. Before long, it slowly fades to an expressionless look.

A/n: I don't know.

Confused, the two kids look at eachother then back to him.

Boy: What do you mean you don't know? You've been telling us stories about the Lone Wanderer ever since you got here.

A/n: Here's the thing, kid. I don't know what happens next because we've pretty much caught up with what's what with the Wanderer's life. So, I don't know what happens afterwards.

The brother and sister let out a disappointed sigh on the fact that the stories may be over. The author soon sports a small grin again.

A/n: You wanna hear my guess on what happens next?

This immediately catches their attention and start shaking their heads in agreement.

A/n: Alright. Well, you can guess on what happened to the Railroad. They were interfering with the Institute's plans. So, although with great hesitation, (y/n) knew what he had to do to help reinvent the Commonwealth into something better. And the Brotherhood? They're hellbent on destroying the Institute, so....... You know what? I think you'll be hearing what'll happen soon enough.

Before the two could question what he meant, their dad walks in and catches their attention.

Settler: Alright you three, break times over. We gotta get the razor corn harvested before the end of the day.

The kids let out a disagreeing groan as they get up and head back to the fields. The author just stands up and follows his "co-workers". A small smile on his lips, knowing he has finally finished this story that has plagued him all year.

----

A/n: Not gonna lie, I'm glad to be rid of this story. I just... lost interest along the way.