In one of the many side streets of D.C., Terry crouched behind an ancient car. He peeked over, trusting his camouflage to keep him hidden. Forty feet away stood three Enclave soldiers on patrol. Terry had been tailing them for over two hours, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. If the bastards would just stay in one area he could deal with them, but they kept walking past other patrols in the streets. It took all of Terry's patience to remain hidden.

Three years. Three years since his kin were killed without warning. Three years of waiting, running, snapping necks and shooting Enclave soldiers until they turned into plasmic goo. He had lost count of how many small patrols he had killed. This would just be one more notch for his belt, if he had one.

Terry turned his attention back to the soldiers. They had stopped, the lead one raising his fist. Both soldier and ghoul waited.

The bark of an assault rifle shattered the relative calm. The two soldiers in front took cover, taking aim with their plasma rifles. The one in the back, a hellfire trooper, hefted his incinerator and fired off volley after volley at the super mutants who had just surprised them.

This was his chance. Terry rushed up to the hellfire soldier. He clambered onto the soldier's back, then hammered his fist into the top of the helmet. This forced the seals in the helmet too hiss and unclamp, rendering the servos in the neck area inert. Before the dazed soldier could do anything, Terry twisted the helmet around and snapped the man's neck.

The corpse fell, the power suit crashing to the ground. The two soldiers in front were still busy shooting at the super mutants. Terry eyed the dropped incinerator with calm satisfaction. He picked it up. 

"Derrick, what the hell are you doing!? Keep them suppressed!" cried the lead soldier. Terry decided to oblige the man, but instead of firing at the super mutants, he aimed and shot the incinerator at the sergeant. It was unwieldy, and Terry had rarely if ever fired a weapon this big. It didn't matter though, considering the size of the projectiles and their area of effect. The first soldier was doused in flames, and he cried in pain and shock as the napalm-like substance burned through his armor. 

It was at that point the last soldier turned around. Dropping the incinerator, Terry rolled to the side and activated his cloak, the plasma bolts missing him by a wide margin. Now it was just the lone soldier against two remaining super mutants. Terry decided to wait it out. He would kill whomever came out of the firefight alive. 

Several minutes later, during which time a Vertibird had flown by in the distance, the battle was over. The Enclave soldier had become victorious through his superior weaponry and armor, though his backup was dead. Terry got in position to finish the job. He snuck behind the soldier, who was cautiously surveying the area for the mysterious figure that had killed his friends. 

[i]Same as before,[/i] Terry thought to himself. He jumped onto the back and slammed his fist into the helmet. Then something unexpected happened. 

The soldier reacted quicker than Terry thought possible, grabbing Terry's arms and throwing him bodily to the ground. The wind was knocked out of him, and he saw the Enclave soldier bending over to pick up his dropped plasma rifle. He needed to act. Terry flipped over and tackled the power armored soldier. The man was pushed back slightly, but stayed standing. Now both men were grappling with the plasma rifle, trying to wrest it away from the other. Thinking on his feet, Terry pushed instead of pulled the plasma rifle, staggering the unwary soldier. Terry clenched his cybernetic fist.

He punched the man's visor. It cracked. He punched it again. The cracks spider-webbed. Terry grabbed the plasma rifle from the soldier and rammed the stock into the visor, shattering it completely. Terry flipped the gun around and aimed the gun into the man's exposed eyes. Was that terror he saw? Confusion? Shock? The glazed over eyes of a man suffering from a concussion?

Terry pulled the trigger.

[hr]
It was a good haul, Terry decided. Three helmets to add to his collection, two plasma rifles to repair and modify, and a load of caps and microfusion cells. The armor and incinerator he decided was dead weight, so he left it there. 

His job done for the day, Terry decided to head to Rivet City. He could burn some caps, maybe repair his aging pistol, or maybe replace it with something a bit better. 

In the distance, he heard a rumble and a boom. Thinking back, Terry decided it must have been the Vertibird from before. [i]It must have crashed,[/i] he thought. A small grin crept onto his face. 

"This day just keeps getting better, huh?"