James stared out of the vertibird, studying the barren wasteland before him. It was a far cry from what he was used to in the Mojave. The endless desert was instead replaced with dense vegetation, steep cliffs and the occasional abandoned building. Reynolds' mind wandered to the task that he now faced. He had heard stories of the Enclave from his grandfather, who had fought them in the NCR-BoS Enclave war. They were rugged, well trained soldiers according to him, more than a match for the average NCR trooper and much better equipped too. Then there was the wasteland itself. There was no stable government here like there was back in the Mojave. It seemed like it was every man for themselves out here. He would have to take a cautious approach to his mission, who knew who was trustworthy? He checked his weapons again, searching for anything that would hinder its effectiveness. Nothing new since the last time he checked. James looked at the intelligence report for the third time, analysing every piece of information noted down again. The NCR higher ups estimated Enclave numbers to be low, but well armed. Intel suggested that they were currently occupied in a war with the Brotherhood of Steel for control of Washington. Whether this would help or hinder his objectives was at the moment uncertain. Flipping the page to the BoS report, his face twisted into a frown. The reports in front of him were conflicting. Some sources stated the BoS to have a strong presence in the wasteland, yet some said different, implying the BoS had gone underground and abandoned its hold of the wasteland. Reynolds stared at the file with confusion. Out-dated intelligence and unreliable sources would only serve to hinder his mission, and no doubt put him in danger. He skimmed over the next few pages, examining the factions the NCR deemed only a minor threat to him, raiders and the like. These he was used to, having had more than enough encounters with chem’d up fiends back west. Should he come across any of these groups, a bullet to the head is all they’d be getting from him. He was suddenly interrupted by a voice from up front.

“Sir, we’ll be reaching the outskirts of D.C shortly. We can’t risk getting any closer than this, or we risk the chance of being detected.”  The NCR pilot said to him.

The officer in the corner handed him a folded piece of paper.

“On here is the frequency which you will use to report in to us, and details of your commanding officer. Just know this Ranger, the bear means nothing out here. If you are captured, there will be no attempt by us to rescue you. If we don’t receive a report from you within a week of our last contact, then we’ll assume you are KIA and will notify your family in due course. The nature of your assignment will not be revealed to them however. Your training has more than adequately prepared you for this. We’re confident that you will succeed.” The NCR captain saluted Reynolds as the vertibird descended onto the wasteland below. Reynolds returned the salute before jumping down from the aircraft. 

He spared one final glance at the NCR flag on the side before the vertibird flew away into the distance. Turning around, Reynolds studied his surroundings. He’d been dropped 10 miles outside of Washington D.C. There wasn’t much for him to see here, just a single road leading to the ruins of D.C. Reynolds slipped the paper into his pocket and set off down the road towards D.C.