The sky thundered with the low, mechanical growl of engines.The Prydwen soared overhead — a flying colossus of steel and resolve. Two Vertibirds detached from its undercarriage, banking east in a slow descent toward the city ruins.
As Nick Mutter himself: "Deep into that darkness perring, long i stood there, wondering, fearing."
Sarah raised her binoculars, the lenses catching the distinct Brotherhood markings on each gunship.
Sarah (into comms):"Echo-Two, divert and land at Red Rocket Station — north of Hagen. Do not engage."
Echo Two (radio crackle):"Roger. Rerouting for soft ground. Touchdown in 60."
Below, the Humvee skidded to a stop near the cratered field. Preston and the remainder of Charlie Team rushed toward the command post, breathless and pale.
Preston (worried):"What's that thing gonna do to us?! That's a warship!"
Nate stared upward, jaw tight.
General Nate:"Should we meet them?"
Preston look at the blimp:" i kind of doubt the brotherhood's intentions are peaceful, but they sure make one hell of entrance."
Commander Sarah (firm):"Negative. I don't know who's leading the Brotherhood now — as well as I have completely no read and blind on their objective. But I aware them well enough to say this: if the Institute's involved, so are they. And if they think the Minutemen are part of it… we could be walking into a firing line."
Nick:"Flying that ship into the heart of the commomwealth, pratically brotherhood's here to start a war."
Sarah's gaze swept the horizon, calculating. Civilians, settlements, farms… all at risk.
One wrong move could bring hell fire raining from the sky.
She exhaled.
Sarah:"Nick, take General Nate and continue the investigation. Find your trail. Don't stop now."
Nick Valentine (nodding):"Got a few ideas left in the tank. We'll keep low."
Nearby, the wounded from Charlie Team were being lifted onto stretchers. Anti-Rain and Delta Team coordinated evac under Z11's guidance. G11 and HK416, battered but operational, helped load the injured into hummer.
Sarah order Z11 :"Proceed the Minutemen evac rendezvous to greygarden to Curie for medical support. Then standby at at Starlight Drive In Base."
HK416 (to Sarah):"Wait… what about you, Kommandant?"
Sarah slung her rifle and checked her sidearm.
Sarah:"UMP9 and 45 are with me. Preston, too — you're now my Minutemen liaison. We're going to try and talk to them. If we in luck, we get words before bullets flying first."
Preston (choking):"W-What?! ME?!"
Sarah (dry):"You've got a clean outfit with decent gear and no death glare. You're basically the friendly front face kind of guy."
Nate (frowning):"I don't like this. Splitting up again... but I've got to keep moving. My son's still out there."
Sarah (softly):"Family first, Nate. Go. Preston's taking the heat this time."
Preston (mutters):"I really gotta start get some dirt on my outfit next time."
The wind picked up, carrying the thrum of Brotherhood engines across the battlefield.
The two Brotherhood of Steel Vertibirds descended like steel vultures into the scorched yard south of Fort Hagen. Their rotor wash blasted grit and ash across shattered roadblocks and charred earth.
Sarah stood calmly at the ridge line, flanked by UMP45, UMP9, and a visibly uneasy Preston Garvey.
The lead Vertibird hatch hissed open. A squad of T-60 power-armored knights emerged, weapons holstered but ready. Their armor bore the red sword-and-wing crest of the East Coast Brotherhood, but Sarah's eyes locked on a familiar sigil: a faded remnant of Lyons' Pride, just visible under the newer paint.
Sarah (low, to herself):"…Didn't think I'd see that emblem again."
One soldier removed their helmet — a weathered man in his forties, buzz-cut, with the tired gaze of someone who'd fought in too many wars.
Knight-Captain Harlan:"Identify yourselves. This zone is under Brotherhood jurisdiction. You're occupying an unverified combat perimeter."
Preston:"Well...umm...Hello, I'm Preston, Minutemen, Look... We have no quarrel with the Brotherhood. We're just tryin' to keep our people safe. You come outta the sky with gunships and no warning — that makes folks real nervous."
Sarah (firm, voice modulated through her visor):"Commander Sierra-45, Strategic Homeland Division. Now operating under Minutemen logistical directive. We're securing the perimeter following a hostile synth engagement."
A ripple passed through the Brotherhood formation.
Another veteran, standing behind Harlan, leaned close and murmured — not quietly enough for Sierra's enhanced sensors to miss it.
Veteran Knight (tense):"…No mistaking it. That's Sierra. The Puppeteer of D.C."
Harlan (narrowing his gaze):"…White House Militia."
Sarah's jaw tightened behind the helmet. She stepped forward, slowly removing her glove — revealing the faded SHD wristband beneath her sleeve.
Sarah:"Correct. I supported the charge against the Enclave when President Eden turned the Citadel into a death trap. And I watched Lyons' Pride turn on the people they promised to protect after the war ended. I lost a lot of good people at the White House gates. how i wish to be present to stop this madness."
The veteran knight — a woman with a cracked pauldron bearing Lyons' original seal — took a step forward, her voice strained.
Veteran Knight:"You were supposed to stand with us. You gave us intel. Shield codes.And we followed orders when Maxson issued the purge."
Sarah's voice remained calm, but cold.
Sarah:"I gave you intel to destroy the Enclave's threat— not to consolidate power.You were supposed to protect the Capitol, not silence its last civilian defense. So don't act surprised when I don't greet you with open arms."
Preston glanced between the armored figures, tension bristling in the silence.
Preston (quiet):"…Okay. So… we all....ummm..... got regrets."
Harlan (measured):"We're not here to reopen old wounds. Our orders are to secure intel on Institute activity. The Merc named Kellogg's last transmission puts him here."
Sarah:"huh, well you're late. He's dead. And if you'd landed 15 minutes earlier, you would've walked into a crossfire."
Harlan (exhales):"…I'll report that to the Prydwen.But know this, Commander Sierra: Elder Maxson remembers you.He didn't expect you to resurface."
Sarah (blunt):"I didn't plan to. But the Institute forced my hand.I don't care about your chain of command. But if you move on civilian settlements, or interfere with Minutemen operations, I will not standby this time."
Harlan eyed her warily, but extended a gauntleted hand.
Harlan:"Then maybe we stay out of each other's way. For now."
Sarah shook it — brief, businesslike.
Sarah:"You'll get no trouble unless you bring it."
She turned toward Preston and the dolls.
Sarah (quietly):"Preston, get to my vertibird — back to Starlight. Radio in, Tell Nate the Brotherhood's here to stay… and it's get complicated."
UMP9 (smirking):"Well they didn't shoot us. That's a win, right?"
UMP45 (dry):"Let's not start celebrating until we're out of range of their missile racks."
As Sarah watched the Brotherhood field team begin assembling a sensor array behind her, she muttered under her breath — almost too quiet for even her own team to hear.
The Prydwen – Command Deck, Night
The steady hum of engines vibrated through the steel floor of the Prydwen's war room. A haze of brass lamplight cast long shadows over maps of the Commonwealth and Institute relay schematics. The Brotherhood's flagship drifted silently above Boston, a leviathan of righteous firepower waiting for its next command.
Knight-Captain Harlan stood at attention before the central table, helmet tucked under one arm. Behind him, Senior Scribe Neriah and Paladin Danse silently reviewed sensor data and intercepted comms logs.
At the far end of the table, Elder Arthur Maxson loomed — cape draped over his broad frame, lion insignia glinting in the low light. He was silent, arms crossed, reading over Harlan's after-action report on a tablet.
After a long beat, Maxson finally spoke.
Maxson (quiet, cold):"Commander Sierra-45. So....Is her resurface verified?"
Harlan:"Yes, Elder. She introduced herself by designation. Operating alongside Minutemen assets… appears to have assumed an unofficial command role in the western sector. She coordinated the engagement at Fort Hagen, assisted in eliminating a high-value Institute proxy — Kellogg."
Maxson (gaze hardening):"She's not just back. She's building something again."
Danse looked up, expression unreadable.
Danse:"But Sierra was considered KIA in the D.C. theater. If she survived the purge… her presence complicates our operational alignment with the Minutemen."
Scribe Neriah:"She's reportedly utilizing pre-War Division equipment and combat dolls of IOP or Sangvis Ferri origin. Several of them were seen engaging alongside Minutemen and unknown assets designated 'Team 404'."
Maxson's knuckles tightened around the edge of the table.
Maxson:"Those dolls were classified threats in the old records. Black Zone AI frameworks. Now she's fielding them like they're her own private army just like institute."
Harlan (careful):"She… made it clear she won't interfere with Brotherhood operations unless we move against civilian settlements. She expressed her concern over our intentions."
Maxson's voice dropped — not loud, but sharp like a blade.
Maxson:"HOW dares she question the Brotherhood's intentions… after what she did?"
He turned his back on the table, staring out the massive window facing Boston — the lights of the wasteland twinkling like ghost fires.
Maxson (low, to himself):"When I was a boy when I met her… during the siege of Project Purity.Lyons trusted her. Sarah Lyons fought beside her.And when the Enclave fell, she vanished — only to resurface now, backing militia with fractured AI weapons at her side…"
He exhaled slowly, face unreadable beneath the lion's mane collar of his coat.
Maxson (final):"Continue surveillance. I want her movements logged, her assets tagged.But do not engage… yet."
Danse gave a crisp nod.
Danse:"Understood, Elder."
Maxson (glancing over shoulder):"And Harlan — if she approaches the Prydwen or attempts direct contact, you inform me immediately.This war is against the Institute. But I won't let ghosts of the past open a second front."
He turned back to the glass, gaze cold and distant.
Maxson (quietly):"Sierra is a relic of the past. Just like Liberty Prime.But now I'm not sure which one is more dangerous if turned against us."
Starlight Drive-In – Command Quarters, Night]
The projector was long dead, its reels rusted shut by years of rain and radiation. In its place, the SHD tactical map flickered faintly across the concrete wall of the former concession stand, casting soft orange light over a desk cluttered with field logs, scrap holotapes, and a battered Brotherhood patch she couldn't bring herself to throw away.
Commander Sierra sat in silence, stripped of armor, down to her weathered undersuit. A half-finished cup of coffee steamed next to her pistol, untouched.
Outside, she could hear Delta Team unloading wounded, G11 muttering in her sleep, and HK416 undergoing minor repair diagnostics by the workshop wall.
But inside — there was only the hum of her thoughts.
She pulled out a thin, worn photo from her field journal. Sarah Lyons, Elder Owyn Lyons, and a much younger Maxson, barely a teenager then — all standing in front of the Pentagon ruins, post-victory.
Her gloved hand trembled slightly.
Sierra (quietly):"Oh the Lyons' Pride… You deserved better than what came after."
She set the photo down, gaze distant. The Brotherhood had changed. The fire she helped light — to rebuild, to protect, to serve — had warped. She saw it in the Prydwen's silhouette: a flying cathedral not as of hope, but of judgment.
Her comms pinged. No one important. Probably UMP9 reporting that the showers were freezing again.
She ignored it.
Sierra (recording log):"Commander Sierra-45 — field note.Fort Hagen secured. Kellogg terminated by Nate and Nick. Institute presence deeper than expected. Sangvis Ferri remnants confirmed — embedded with synth forces. Purpose unclear."
She paused, staring at the old Brotherhood insignia lying next to her comms pad.
Sierra (softly):"Now Maxson's here too. I doubt he ever remembers the last time he saw me. Maybe he does… or maybe that's the problem.They once called me their shield — their phatom guardian.Now I'm the unknown. The possible threat to them.I wonder if Sarah Lyons would've stood beside me again… or ordered me shot."
She stood up slowly, holstering her sidearm and throwing her cloak back over her shoulders.
She looked at the map — Institute relay sites, Minutemen patrols, and now a new marker: Prydwen – Active AO.
Sierra-45:"Sigh, No rest for the weary."