[b][color=598527][i]Raging Bear, Kodiak Commander- Kodiak Airport[/i][/color]
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Commander Bear looked at the Scribe who'd introduced herself as 'Nakamura' with suspicion and shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I'm not authorized to accept that. You'll need to talk to the Boss or be directed to whoever's the contract handler when you get to the Mother Base. Get in the back of the supply truck and they'll take you to base via boat." He pointed a hand to the supply truck and the bear fur clad soldiers who only watched silently through their goggles.

The mechanic driving the truck nodded to the Scribe as she hopped in the cab while the other soldiers got in the bed of the truck. "I apologize if the Old Bear wasn't too kind to you. You have to understand, we take in troops from all over. He deserted some Brotherhood Chapter in, errrr, Washington? Or was it Oregon? Well, anyway, he gets wary of other former family picking a fight with him. He's a good man otherwise. That Brotherhood discipline makes him a good leader." He quieted down and put in an old holotape to kill the silence. After a short trip, they finally arrived. "Here we are, folks. The boats to our home. Arctic Haven."
[color=598527][i][b]
Arctic Haven, AKA Mother Base[/b][/i][/color]

Commander Fulman stood looking out of the window of the old Base Commander's office in the admin building overseeing the smooth chains and gears of their organization at work. Soldiers marching in formations, in the far end of the base he could see the troops at work in their war games, in this case, practicing against a decommissioned tank. A few vertibirds were moving in and out over the hours when the radio at his shoulder came to life. "Come in, Boss. This is Base Transport, do you copy?" John nodded to no one who could see, "I do. What is it?" The voice on the other end sounded hesitant, "It's the, er, the Brotherhood sir. They've come with some kind of payment and they've come for the weapon, sir." John frowned, "I see. And they're almost to the dock?" The woman hesitated again, "Well, we're only feet from the dock to Base. We've already followed proper protocol, but this felt like something you s-" "Enough. Have them sent to admin. And have those elites who escorted them go to the warehouse. And Support?" A third wave of hesitation emanated, "S-Sir?" "You should have alerted me to the Brotherhood's presence before they got on the damn boat. Now drop and give me fifty 8 counts, then go back to your assigned tasks. Over and out."

John put on his winterized overcoat, really just recycled Pre-War Officer's gear, and descended the stairs of the Admin building and light a cigar in the doorway before heading out into the wind of the morning. The jeep soon pulled up the drive to the heavy oak doors of the Admin building, dropping off the Brotherhood escort and the Scribe. "I'm John Fulman, commander of the Arctic Haven forces. It's good to meet you, Scribe.....?"

As they arrived at the silo housing....it...John sighed a heavy sigh, "Let's head inside." Two soldiers in winterized T-45d Power Armor watched the door vigilantly and saluted sharply when John approached. "Clearance Code OC-23-77", John stated then the camera above the door robotically pinged "Access Granted." They descended a muddy stair going straight down. "My apologies for the mess. Apparently there's a waterleak or snow melts into the place and it's built up over time. We don't allow anyone in here, nukes are like the worst apple in the garden of Eden and too many men are tempted to bite in." They went down a hall with a flickering light overhead and when John pushed open a rusted metallic sealing door, the room opened into a poorly lit expanse, overlooking the silo and its payload. "Pardon the lights, we've only been able to get the place up the 37% capacity, the back up generator's apparently been on before and blown a fuse or two and the power generator that [i]should[/i] be running this place is shot to shit and we don't have anyone familiar with nuclear reactor technology. Lights are minimally and selectively on in here, mostly rooms we'll use while you're here. The rest of what power does flow is to the silo blast doors. And here she is, the beast herself." He stopped just before the balcony rails and waved his arms across the expanse of the room. Upon approaching the edge, it was clear as day even in this dimness, the raw and merciless power of a warhead before the assembled tour's eyes. John clenched his jaw, "As much as I hate to say this, you have to respect the aura of power the very sight of it reverberates."