--- Commonwealth - Boston airport ---
Danes, now holding the title of Elder for the Commonwealth's chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel, walking through the heavily fortified Boston Airport — the current stronghold of their chapter. A lot had changed since last year, since the day he discovered that he, along with many others, was a synth. At first, he believed he had to be destroyed, made an example of, not an exception. But Ward — someone he could truly call a friend — convinced him otherwise. Ward had argued that Danes and the others weren't dangerous technology out of control, but proof that synths could exist peacefully now that the Institute was gone.
With the reorganized Minutemen under Ward's command, they managed to rescue the condemned synths before their executions. In the aftermath, General Ward confronted Elder Maxwell, giving him two options: leave the Commonwealth, in which case the Minutemen would supply him and the remaining Brotherhood forces under his command with enough provisions to return to the Capital Wasteland — or stay and fight, in which case Ward promised the Minutemen's cannon emplacements, fully capable of bringing down the Prydwen, and their superior numbers would do the rest. Fortunately, Elder Maxwell chose to leave.
What followed for those who remained was a slow, difficult effort to rebuild and redefine the Boston chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel. But with the Minutemen's support, they succeeded. To bolster their ranks, locals were accepted and properly trained. And with many of them being synths themselves, the old animosities toward non-humans diminished significantly. Together, they built something stronger.
Now, they faced enemies not native to the Commonwealth. The Communists — or "Reds," as most called them — had begun invading downtown Boston. For the past week, the Brotherhood fought to hold them back, preventing them from acquiring dangerous technology. To the north, another threat had emerged: a fascist faction, currently being engaged by the Minutemen. And as each day passed, open conflict seemed increasingly inevitable. As Elder of the Boston Brotherhood, it was Danes' responsibility to make sure his people were ready. Already, work was underway to repair and reprogram several sentry bots for the battles to come.
Around the stronghold, sentries patrolled the perimeter. On the western side of the compound, watchful eyes scanned the surrounding ruins for any sign of enemy movement. One sentry, peering through his binoculars at the wreckage of abandoned cars and a collapsed building, caught a flicker of movement between the debris. Before he could sound the alarm, a silenced bullet struck him in the head, splattering blood and brain matter across the wall behind him.
Though the gunshot was silent, the sight of the fallen sentry immediately alerted those nearby, who quickly raised the alarm.
In that instant, a large force of Red Line soldiers launched a surprise attack on the Boston Airport stronghold, opening fire with an assortment of rifles and grenades. The Brotherhood of Steel responded without hesitation — soldiers in power armor surged forward, weapons blazing, meeting the attackers head-on in a brutal firefight to hold the line.
Inside the compound, Danes was issuing orders, coordinating counter-sniper teams to deal with the marksmen who posed a serious threat to soldiers without power armor. As much as he wanted to be on the front line, leading the charge, he knew his place was here — making sure every squad had their orders and understood their objectives.
From the eastern side of the compound, two Vertibirds lifted off from the helipads, their engines roaring as they climbed into the sky to provide much-needed aerial support.
The Reds were taking heavy casualties, but despite the losses, they refused to retreat. Their determination was relentless. On the upper levels of a nearby parking structure, several Red Line soldiers armed with rocket launchers prepared to take down the Vertibirds.
Due to their slow ascent, one of the two aircraft couldn't avoid the barrage. A rocket struck its tail, sending it spinning out of control. Inside, the pilot fought desperately to steady the aircraft, trying to maneuver it into a controlled crash landing. The gunners clung to their mounted weapons, struggling to hold on as the Vertibird bucked and lurched.
Thanks to the pilot's skill, the crash landing was rough but survivable, sparing the crew's lives. The second Vertibird managed to dodge the incoming rockets but was forced to fall back. The Red Line soldiers had taken cover behind the thick concrete pillars of the parking structure, making it impossible to suppress them from the air. Every attempt to strafe their positions was met with more rocket fire, forcing the aircraft to retreat to a safer distance.
The sight of one Vertibird down and another driven off emboldened the Red Line troops. Even with their mounting casualties, they pressed the attack with renewed fervor.
Watching the battle unfold, Danes couldn't help but recall a story he once heard — the Brotherhood's doomed stand against the NCR at Helios One. It hadn't ended well for the Brotherhood then. But this wasn't the Mojave, and this wasn't the old Brotherhood. He was determined to make sure this fight would end differently.
-------
As the battle raged on, the Red Line soldiers solidified their positions, taking cover behind the wreckage of vehicles and crumbling ruins. Despite heavy losses, they held the line with grim determination.
Behind their front line, on the second floor of a partially intact building, two Red Line soldiers operated vital equipment. One manned a field radio, while the other peered through a portable rangefinder, relaying precise coordinates for artillery strikes. The radio operator quickly transmitted the target locations.
Moments later, a series of distant thumps echoed through the ruined city. Explosions erupted dangerously close to the Brotherhood's defenses. Fortunately, only a handful landed near clusters of Brotherhood troops. Those caught in the blasts were shielded by their power armor; though the concussive force sent them sprawling and battered their suits, none suffered fatal wounds. Wounded soldiers were dragged to cover by their comrades, receiving immediate medical aid. The damaged power armor units, while still operational, had taken enough punishment to force them out of the frontline for repairs.
Surveying the worsening situation from the command post, Danes scowled. The arrival of artillery support for the enemy was a dangerous development, one that could easily tip the balance of the battle. Thinking quickly, he turned to a nearby scribe manning the communications array.
"Get on the radio," Danes ordered sharply. "Contact the remaining Vertibird. Tell them to stay out of anti-air range and circle wide. I want them behind enemy lines. Find out where those artillery strikes are coming from."
The scribe immediately began transmitting the orders.
Turning to another scribe he ordered.
"And get me the Castle," Danes added. "We're going to need our own artillery support, fast."
The scribe nodded and adjusted the radio frequency. Danes exhaled, eyes narrowing as the battle thundered around him. The Red Line might have brought artillery — but the Commonwealth had firepower of its own.
Danes spoke over the radio with Preston Garvey, the commander of the Castle, informing him of the Red Line's full-scale assault on the Brotherhood's position and formally requesting artillery support to counter the enemy offensive — and more importantly, to eliminate the Red Line's artillery positions.
Preston, without hesitation, agreed.
"We'll have the cannons ready," he confirmed firmly. "Just get us those coordinates."
"Copy that," Danes replied.
At that moment, a Brotherhood soldier approached with urgency.
"Sir! Our snipers may have located the enemy spotter!"
Danes gave a sharp nod. "Good. Mark him as priority. Take him out the moment you get a clean shot."
He then turned back to the scribe by the radios.
"Keep the channel with the Castle open. As soon as we confirm those coordinates, we'll be transmitting for immediate strikes."
Back at the Castle, tension hung thick in the air. The Minutemen were on high alert. Word of the Red Line's assault had spread quickly, and every soldier understood what was at stake. An attack of this size wasn't just a skirmish — it was a major move, and the Brotherhood's call for help was a clear sign of how serious the situation was.
Preston Garvey moved along the ramparts where the Castle's upgraded cannons stood ready. Along the battlements, several automated turrets hummed softly in standby, their targeting sensors sweeping the horizon for threats.
"Get those guns ready!" Preston called to the artillery crews, who scrambled to prepare the heavy shells and make final adjustments to the range finders and firing mechanisms. The Minutemen had invested time and effort into upgrading the Castle's ancient artillery — extending their range, refining their targeting, and improving the stability of the firing platforms. Today, it would be put to the test.
After inspecting each artillery position, Preston made his way back to the Communications Operations Center, a fortified room filled with radios, signal boosters, and relay equipment. Operators monitored multiple frequencies, headphones pressed against their ears, ready to receive firing coordinates.
Preston took a deep breath, his jaw set. Now, all they needed was the call from Danes.
--------
Danes didn't like the situation one bit. He had lost another squad of soldiers to enemy artillery, and to make matters worse, a new threat had emerged — what appeared to be an armored personnel carrier. But this was no design he recognized. Its turret-mounted main weapon resembled an anti-tank rifle, or something similar, and it had already proven its lethality by taking down a soldier in power armor.
He needed to turn this around — fast.
Until the enemy artillery's position could be confirmed and neutralized, Danes knew they had to disrupt the Red Line assault force and take back control of the battlefield.
The only sliver of good news was the confirmation that the enemy spotter had just been eliminated.
Without wasting a moment, Danes ordered strike coordinates relayed to the Castle — targeting the Red Line rocket teams positioned in the upper levels of the parking lot building.
Moments later, the sharp whistle of incoming shells split the air.
A direct hit.
The parking lot erupted in a massive explosion, a fireball consuming the upper floors. Seconds later, a follow-up shell struck, the combined detonations causing the damaged structure to collapse in a thunderous crash of concrete and rebar.
Next, Danes ordered artillery strikes against the APC. But its position between buildings made targeting difficult, the shells landing off-mark. Still, the blasts forced the vehicle to withdraw deeper into cover, effectively neutralizing its immediate threat.
Then the call came in — the Vertibird had located the enemy artillery positions.
A series of mortars, positioned in a clearing behind the ruins, were hurriedly being packed up. The Red Line artillery teams were retreating, clearly aware they'd been spotted.
Danes immediately transmitted the coordinates to Preston at the Castle. Two shells were fired in quick succession, but both missed — the enemy artillery escaping into the ruined city.
Even so, the tide of battle had shifted.
In front of the Boston Airport, the Red Line assault faltered. Demoralized by the loss of their rocket teams, the APC's retreat, and mounting casualties, the Red soldiers began a full retreat.
The Brotherhood soldiers didn't pursue. The losses had been heavy, and Danes knew chasing a desperate, retreating enemy through the ruins could lead to ambushes and more unnecessary deaths.
For now, the battle was over.
Danes allowed himself a brief moment of relief, though he knew this was just one fight in a much larger war.
---
In the aftermath of the battle, Danes gathered with his officers to assess the situation and review the damage. The casualty report was better than he had expected — most of the wounded had sustained non-fatal injuries, and only a few fatalities were confirmed. Medics were already doing everything possible to stabilize the wounded and ensure their survival.
Turning the conversation toward their next steps, Danes gave his orders with a firm tone. First, the sentry bots needed to be repaired and brought back online immediately. Had they been operational during the attack, they could have significantly reduced the number of casualties and turned the tide even faster. Second, their manpower had to be replenished — something that would require coordination with General Ward. Danes made a mental note to raise the matter in their next conversation.
Before dismissing his officers, he reminded them to keep the troops on high alert. The Red Line retreat didn't mean the threat was over.
With that, Danes made his way to the communications room to relay the victory to Preston Garvey and to establish contact with General Ward.
--- Fallon's department store . Red line HQ ---
At the Red Line headquarters, the commander seethed with frustration over the failed assault. The primary objective had been clear: wipe out the Brotherhood of Steel presence at the Boston Airport and seize the advanced equipment they guarded so fiercely. Power armor was a rare prize , and most of the laser weaponry in Red Line hands had either been scavenged from fallen foes or stolen in ambushes against poorly defended caravans.
The commander mulled over the battle's outcome. While they hadn't achieved total victory, the attack hadn't been without merit. The Brotherhood had been crippled , their forces thinned. More importantly, it had been the first true field test for their newly acquired mortars and the prototype APC — both of which had performed as intended. If not for one critical miscalculation, they might have overrun the airport entirely.
What the Red Line hadn't accounted for was the enemy's artillery. The Castle — that old Minutemen fortress — had tipped the scales against them. Its long-range cannons provided the kind of firepower the Red Line had neither anticipated nor prepared for.
As the commander stared down at a map of the Commonwealth, his expression hardened. The Castle… It was no longer just an obstacle. It was a threat. And it would have to be dealt with, sooner rather than later.