Chapter I · Chapter II · Chapter III · Chapter IV · Chapter V · Chapter VI · Chapter VII · Chapter VIII

Following the votes on chapter 2, here is chapter 3! This one, along with the next two, will have no poll, since I have already written a lot for the holiday season. Enjoy. --Skire (talk) 21:27, December 16, 2012 (UTC)

Luckily I was able to scrape up a few caps, found here and there, mostly from our old residence.

There was a merchant setting up not too far from the Institute building. I went to him and asked, “Got any weapons?”

“Yeah, ‘course. Take a look.”

Ammunition was hard to come by, and so practising was not something people did. I did get to fire a pistol once, back in the day, when my father was still around. It was a 10 mil pistol.

In his armoury of sorts there was an old hunting rifle, a few worn boxes of ammo, two shotguns, a couple Chinese pistols, a 9 mil pistol, and a 10 mil pistol.

Holding in memory that day when my father and I went outside and I shot his old and rusty 10 mil at a few old targets we found in a pile of junk, I decided to pick up this relatively new-looking 10 mil, along with a few dozen rounds.

It cost me all my caps.

Oh well, it’s probably the most important thing if you’re going to freaking downtown looking for raiders heading towards an Enclave camp.

Ah yes, the Enclave.

No one ever spoke in favour of them around here. The Institute considered them terrorists, the denizens of the Commonwealth seemed to all fear and them at the same time. They were perceived as genocide-committing pseudo-governmental assholes and to be avoided or killed at all costs.

The Enclave has a mission: to recreate civilisation. To rebuild America! Beautiful, isn’t it? It’s bullshit. For some reason, they believe that this can only be perceived by “purging impurities” from the wasteland, as one of their propaganda posters read. Who/what were these impurities? They were anyone who weren’t part of the Enclave, its elite supporters, or those still in vaults or live in radiation-free environments (do they even exist?). Super mutants, ghouls, and wasteland denizens were imprisoned and murdered en masse by the Enclave.

Rebuilding America, eh?

They say the Enclave spanned across the entire United States. The Brotherhood fought them in the Capital Wasteland many years back, as did this guy called the “Chosen One”, whoever he is.

Well now I am in downtown, being ever mindful of my surroundings. It’s quiet, with the typical wind howling through the skeletons, of buildings and of people.

I continue to walk into Fools’ District.

At an intersection, I hear a few voices. Instinctively I hide behind a large concrete slab lying at the centre of the road.

These are characteristic voices – gruff, rugged, and vulgar – voices of raiders, for sure. The owners of these voices are conversing in the middle of the intersection, next to an old truck frame which they apparently use as a shelter/base of sorts. Thankfully, they don’t seem to see me approaching, and are paying too little attention to their surroundings to notice me hiding here, just a few dozen metres away.

There were around seven of them. I could barely make out what they were saying, “Jimmy… Institution workers… Captives… take ‘em to the Enclave camp… Caps… Get fucking rich…”

Eventually, after a few minutes of eavesdropping, I pick up the gist of what they are talking about. And it comes out to this:

The Enclave is contracting raiders in Boston to capture wastelanders for money.

Who knows what the fuck they plan to do with them…