If you need some protection for your settlement, I used to be a soldier for the gunners.

Work for me.
Roger that. Where do you want me?

Idles

I like how organized you are. It’s a good sign.

I like a settlement that’s well disciplined. Things work better when no one steps out of line, and everyone knows their role.

It’s strange to say, but raiders are people too. Some just made poor choices in life. Others had those choices made for them.

I grew up in a small town. A group of gunners came by looking for recruits, and I joined up. Maybe it was the uniforms, but they looked dignified.

My first assignment with the gunners was to take out a raider stronghold. Back then, I thought we were the good guys.

When I was kid, me and my friend Frankie would spend all day together at the Red Rocket, scavving parts and hunting molerats.
Hardest day of my life was when I found out he joined a raider gang. Looking back, that could’ve easily been me.

Gunners killed my pal Frankie’s parents. They stole from people. Raped. Murdered. Needless to say I couldn’t be a part of that.

Was I naive to trust the Gunners? Maybe. Part of me just wanted to believe someone was out there doing good.

If you need anyone to take charge of certain tasks, don’t hesitate to ask.

I like to start every day with about a fifty pushups, then a mile jog. Can’t defend a settlement if you can’t even catch your breath.

I prefer classical music. It’s more regimented than the jazz they play on the radio.

It’s good to rotate jobs every now and then. It helps if we all know how everything here works, in case someone gets sick.

I used to be a hell of a shot. If you gave me a rifle and a scope, I could stick a bullet into a bloodbug’s tubehole from a 100 yards away.
Give me an MG, and I’d pump that fucker full of rounds until it shit lead.
Now? I’m a little out of practice to be honest. Last person I shot fucked with my head. But don’t worry, if you need me on the front line, I’ll be there.

Shit out there is fubar, boss. Keep your head on a swivel.

Be careful who you recruit for your settlement. Some of these civs are so diseased they’re pissing napalm.
You don’t want an outbreak on your hands. Best you wash ’em.

Keep an eye out for brotherhood blackbirds falling from the sky. Might be some good loot in ’em.

Be sure you got enough ammo. Last thing you want is to click that trigger and have the barrel spit air.

It’s good to have a doc on site, but if need be I can bandage a wound.

Out in the field, you gotta eat what you can. Shit we got here is like a five star restaurant compared to the crap I’ve downed.

Best shot I ever took was up on the pike. Wind was blowing faster than a hooker on jet, and I still managed to pop an Assaultron in her laser hole before she could fry the whole bunker.

Trying to get some of these settlers into shape is like trying to shine up a brahmin turd.
But not every person needs to be a soldier. Whether it’s picking crops or picking up garbage, we’ll find ’em a home.

Raiders, rust devils, mutants…there’s some hard motherfuckers out in the wasteland.
But compared to you, they’re softer than a wet newspaper. We’ll be all right.

It’s hard getting used to the quiet. Shit hasn’t been this slow since Jesus was a corporal. But I guess that’s a good thing.

I’m not proud of some of the shit I’ve done. But I’m the one who has to live with it. And I do, every fucking day.

Worst thing are the triggers…I’ll see something that’ll remind me of Frankie. Or maybe a rad-storm will hit and I’ll think back to that day.
Then it’ll all come back, and I’ll just get keyed up, like I’m in the shit again, his dead body in front of me, and smoke coming out of my gun.

I don’t keep track of the days. If you remember what day it was you shit the bed, in a year’s time, you’ll be squirting Hershey all over again.

My time with the gunners taught me not to judge people by the banner they carry. Brotherhood, Minutemen…shit, maybe even the Institute’s got some good people.
Point is, it’s fucked up that we’re all out here killing each other. But we got to, or else they’ll kill us first.

Maybe I should’ve been a medic. People always say it’s better to heal than kill. Maybe it’s not too late.

I used to think I was a hard ass. There was nothing in the wastes that could get me to tear up. Famous last words, huh.

You got this ship running tighter than a nun’s asshole. Keep it up.

I like the way you work. Got everyone busting ass and making time.

Thanks for taking me on. It’s good to be part of a team again.

Watch your six.

Locked and loaded.

Oorah!