Chapter 28: I am Death Destroyer of Worlds

The Citadel, two days after the raid on Fort Bannister:

Sarah Lyons sat in the Lyon's Den of the Citadel, trying in vain to eat her breakfast. As she uncaringly moved her spoon around the bowl of sugar bombs cereal, her mind was back in the missile silo of Fort Bannister. There, she and the rest of the Pride had witnessed Marcus' pain and anguish as his lover, Amata Almodovar, died in his arms from an assassin's bullet. Marcus' screams still haunted her at night; as well as the screams of the Talon Company Merc he tortured for information. As the Sentinel of the Brotherhood of Steel, there wasn't much that could frighten Sarah Lyons, but that day Marcus had scared both her and her squad. The last time she'd seen him like that was when he'd fought Colonel Autumn, the man who'd killed his father. Now, there was no telling what Marcus would do to the man who'd killed his lover.

That was the other reason why Sarah found it difficult to concentrate these last two days. Up until Fort Bannister, she had no idea Marcus and Amata were together, and that made her question a lot of things. At the top of the list was the kiss they almost shared at Project Purity. Even though she shrugged it off as just tension, she had been certain, at the time, that he wanted to kiss her as well. Had she completely miss read the signs? Was Marcus the kind of man who could love one woman, then kiss another behind her back? Sarah dropped her spoon in the bowl and pressed both her temples. The fact is, seeing how much Marcus loved Amata, had caused a small part of her to be...jealous...and she absolutely hated herself for it. Her friend was hurting, and here she was worrying about her own petty feelings. No! There was nothing to be jealous about, because she and Marcus were friends and colleagues, nothing more. Now, as his friend and superior, Sarah had do her best to save Marcus...from himself if necessary.

After tossing her cereal away, Sarah made her way to the lab, hoping that maybe someone had heard from Marcus. When he wasn't roaming the Waste killing raiders and Super Mutants, the Lone Wanderer would help Rothchild and the rest of the scribes with the rebuilding of Liberty Prime. Marcus loved the robot almost as much as Rothchild, and the two vowed that Liberty Prime would walk again. Sarah spotted the Head Scribe standing at his work station, and she approached him. "Scribe Rothchild, have you seen Marcus?"

Rothchild sighed in frustration. "No, and frankly I'm rather annoyed. He promised me he would help after his last patrol, but he has yet to show up. Liberty Prime is not going to rebuild itself, you know!"

As Sarah listened to the Head Scribe's rant, his assistant, Scribe Vallincourt, walked up to both of them. "Actually sir, ma'am, he was here last night."

"What!" Sarah shouted, unable to contain the surprise in her voice.

The young red-headed scribe was clearly taken aback by the outburst. "Y-yes, ma'am. He came in very late, and said he needed access to the lab's computers. He said it was for a secret mission he was on. He downloaded a few files then left."

Sarah was doing her best to hide her anger. He was here...and he hadn't bothered to see her. "Did he say what files he downloaded?"

"No ma'am...but, shouldn't you know since you're his commanding officer?"

Sarah ignored the question. "Is there anyway for you to look up on the computer and find out what files he took?"

Vallincourt was clearly confused, and she made her way over to the main computer. "Yes ma'am, just give me minute." She typed on the computer terminal. "Hu, that's strange. The entire user history has been wiped clean. All of our files are still there, but there's no way to tell what was downloaded."

Alarm bells began going off in Sarah's head. "Is there NO way of finding out what was downloaded?"

"Well, nothing get's completely erased. I could recover the history, but it would take time."

"Do it." Sarah ordered. "And when you find out what those files were, you come and find me, and only me, understand?"

If Vallincourt was confused before, she was completely dumbfounded now. "Yes ma'am. Um...can you tell me what this is about, ma'am?"

Sarah tensed up. She wasn't sure how much to tell the scribe, and she decided to air on the side of caution. "That's need to know, scribe. You have your orders."

"Yes, ma'am."

Sarah left the lab and proceeded to the courtyard; she needed some air. 'Damn it, Marcus! What the hell are you up to?'

There were many places in the Capitol Wasteland that one should avoid, and one of them was Fort Constantine. Many scavengers over the last two centuries had tried to get into this treasure trove of old world tech. None, had ever made it out alive. In addition to the small army of US Army combat robots still guarding the Fort, there were dozens of feral ghouls roaming the facility. It was said the Fort housed an untold number of nuclear warheads, and no doubt this was the reason for so many ghouls. If one managed to get past the robots and ferals, the radiation would either kill or ghoulify them. Marcus Lincoln, did not have to worry about any of this. One, he was immune to radiation, and two, he had a badass truck with a bigass gun mounted on it. After smashing through the gate, he jumped onto the mounted Gatling laser cannon, and obliterated both robot and ghoul alike. A few laser and plasma burst grazed him, but his armor held, and once inside the irradiated Fort, his burns healed very quickly. Marcus wished his PIPBOY could wirelessly hack into the robots, but Rothchild had explained that US army combat robots were immune to such attacks. So to take control of one, he had to do the old fashion way: disable it first, then plug in the PIPBOY and do it manually. The hard part was disabling one of the robots without damaging it beyond repair.

His chance came when he was able to hit a lone Mister Gutsy with a pulse grenade, and as it tried to reboot, Marcus was able to hack in and shut it down. Once he was certain there were no more hostiles in the area, he immediately went to work on the robot's programming. Thanks to the PIPBOY 3000, it didn't take too long. The robot came back to life and began hovering above the ground. "Salutations, Commander! Sergeant RL-3, gutsy-class robotic soldier, reporting for duty! To whom am I speaking with?"

Marcus decided to play along. After all, this robot had no idea the US Army didn't exist. "My name is Commander Marcus Lincoln."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir. What is our mission?"

Marcus grinned. "Mission? We're going to war!"

Three hours later, SatCom Array NN-03D, east of Fort Constantine:

As it turned out, RL-3 was very useful in a fire fight. Armed with a plasma cannon and flame thrower, the Raiders occupying the array didn't stand a chance against it and the Lone Wanderer. After the last Raider fell, Marcus and the robot immediately went to work restoring the array. For all his technical knowledge, Marcus needed help, and he couldn't ask any of the Brotherhood scribes for it. They would never go along with what he was about to do. That was why he needed RL-3, and the files he downloaded from Fort Constantine and the Citadel.

"How much longer till we're up and running?" Marcus asked.

RL-3 was busy hooking up power lines. "For God's sake man, I'm a soldier, not a scientist!"

Marcus rolled his eyes. For a soldier, this robot had no problem mouthing off to his commander.

It took them another hour, but they had finally brought the array back on line. All things considered, the facility was in surprisingly descent shape. Marcus entered the information from the Citadel into the computer, then he transferred the array's controls to his PIPBOY. Everything was ready. "Sergeant!"

The robot immediately rushed over to him. "Sir!"

"You are to stay here and guard the array. If anyone other then me tries to enter you are authorized to use lethal force, understand?"

"Yes, sir!"

Marcus picked up his tri-beam laser rifle, and walked out of the array. It was time to pay Allistair Tenpenny a visit.

Tenpenny Tower was without question, the most luxurious settlement in all of the Capitol Wasteland. Before the Great War, it was a luxury resort that catered to DC's rich and powerful. It was dormant for almost two centuries, until Allistair Tenpenny arrived from England, seeking fame and fortune. Together with a hired mercenary group, led by a man named Gustavo, they cleared out the feral ghouls, and restored the tower to much of it's past glory. In many ways, Allistair Tenpenny was the embodiment of the American Dream: an immigrant from a foreign land starting off with almost nothing, and then builds an empire with his own two hands. None of this mattered to Marcus Lincoln as he strolled through the front gates of the settlement. Last month he'd paid an admission fee, (a steep 1,500 caps) and was allowed to enter at anytime. He hadn't been back since, because he found out just how prejudiced most of the residents were towards ghouls. Marcus had tried to explain to them that not all ghouls were bad, and told them about how his best friend, Charon, was a ghoul who fought at Project Purity. None of that mattered in the end, so Marcus left in disgust. As Reilly once said: "Those rich fucks got their heads so far up their own asses, they can't see the sunlight."

That was just one more reason for Marcus to hate Tenpenny. He only allowed the rich and well to do into his settlement. Outside these walls people were just barely scraping by, while he and everyone else in the tower went on without a care in the world. Marcus had no problem with people acquiring wealth (he had amassed quit the nest egg in recent months), but if one could, they should help their fellow man. Deciding to play it cool, as not to arouse suspicion, Marcus went into the Cafe' Beau Monde and sat down at one of the tables. The cafe's owner, Margaret Primrose, walked over to take his order.

"Well good morning! It's been a while since you were in here. Just couldn't stay away from my cooking, hu?"

Marcus forced a smile. Margaret was one of the only people in the Tenpenny Tower that he actually liked. At the age of seventy-two, the kind woman reminded him of Lucy Palmer from his Vault, and she was one of only two people in the tower who didn't hate ghouls. A small pang of guilt hit Marcus as he stared at Margaret, but he pushed it aside. "I'll just have a shot of whiskey for now, Mrs. Primrose."

"Alright, coming right up."

As Margaret prepared his drink, her two grandchildren, thirteen year old Jack, and ten year old Samantha, came running into the cafe'. Another pang of guilt hit Marcus as the two children ran up to their grandmother, and nearly knocked her down in a group hug. Marcus was greatful they were the only children in the tower; guess not many of the "well to do" bothered having kids. A few moments later they were followed by the only other person in all of Tenpenny Tower that Marcus respected, Herbert "Daring" Dashwood himself.

"Do these two ruffy'ins belong to you?" Dashwood playfully asked.

Margaret smiled at her grandchildren. "Oh Dashwood, I hope they weren't giving you any trouble."

The seventy year old retired adventurer present a dismissive wave. "Na, they're no trouble at all."

"Daring's been telling us stories about his adventures, Grandma!" Jack said.

Margaret managed to break free from the hug, and walked over to Marcus' table. "Oh, is that right? Well, I hope Mr. Dashwood cleaned them up for you."

Dashwood grinned. "Of course I did." While Margaret turned her back, the adventure looked at Marcus and winked.

Marcus forced another smile. The night he'd met Dashwood, the two of them had shared stories of their adventures, and had gotten to know each other pretty well. Like Marcus, Dashwood had tried to change the other resident's minds about ghouls, using his friendship with Argyle as an example, but it was no use. They were just too prejudiced to change. Marcus thought about his friend Charon, and what he would say if he was here right now. 'You know what he'd say about this', he thought. 'That's why you didn't ask him for help'. Marcus quickly drank the shot of whiskey, trying to force these doubts from his mind. The death of everyone in the tower was unfortunate, but Marcus couldn't take the chance of warning anyone. If Gustavo and his band of mercs escaped, they would no doubt come after Marcus for revenge. As he got up from his table and walked out, he took one last look at Margaret's grandchildren.

'Say something!' his mind screamed. 'Tell them to leave! Call it off!' But Marcus' lust for revenge would not be tamed, and he turned and headed for the suits. Collateral damage was unfortunate, but part of war. His plan would not be stopped.

Getting into Allistair Tenpenny's suit was not very difficult. There was only one guard posted at his door, and like most mercs, his loyalty was to the highest bidder. It was five-hundred caps Marcus was glad to spend, since killing the guard could complicate things. As he strolled inside, he heard the sound of a sniper rifle going off near the balcony. Marcus walked through the door leading to the balcony, and spotted the man who murdered his love leaning over it, taking shots at some of the local wildlife below. His was on older man with white hair, and was wearing a very expensive red jacket. Marcus' fist clenched, and it took every ounce of will power to not draw his gun and put as many rounds as he could into the man's chest. But no, that would be too merciful. As he approached, Tenpenny heard the foot steps and spun around, clearly surprised.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?"

"Allistair Tenpenny?" Marcus asked in a cool, calm tone.

"Why yes, that's me."

Marcus drew the tranquilizer gun and fired a single dart into Allistair's neck. The man barley had time to register what happened, when the sedative kicked in and he began to fall. Marcus rushed over and caught him; he didn't want the man to die from a head injury. As he dragged Tenpenny's body over to the edge of the balcony, he heard the door to the suit open, and he froze.

"Hey Allistair! You ready for me to beat you at target practice again?"

Dashwood! Marcus placed Tenpenny's down, in full view, drew his silenced 10mm handgun, and hide behind one of the pillars. A few moments later, Dashwood walked onto the balcony, and spotted Tenpenny. "Allistair!" He knelled down next to the unconcious man. "Allistair! What happened?" He froze when he heard the hammer of a gun being cocked back.

"Drop your shotgun, and stand up, slowly."

Dashwood did what he was told and placed his hands up. "Damn! I'm definitely getting old." He turned around, and was shocked to see who his captor was. "Marcus?"

Marcus didn't say anything. He just kept his gun trained on the old adventurer.

"Marcus! What's going on here? What are you doing?"

Marcus' mind was racing as he tried to contemplate his next move. He could just easily kill Dashwood, throw his body over the balcony, and no one would know. Still...

"I have no quarrel with you, Dashwood, but if you try to stop me I will kill you."

Dashwood looked into the Lone Wanderer's eyes, and he knew he wasn't bluffing. "I won't try to stop you, but I will report this when you leave."

'Kill him!' Marcus' mind screamed. 'If you don't, he'll ruin everything!' Marcus' finger strained against the trigger, but in that moment, staring into Dashwood's eyes, the small part of him that his anger had drowned out, managed to briefly come to the surface. Marcus would try another way. "If you do that, you won't be able to save Margaret and her grand kids."

That got Dashwood's attention. "What are talking about?" he growled.

"This place is going down, Dashwood. Tenpenny, the tower, everyone here...they're all gonna burn!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key ring, and tossed it at Dashwood. "There's a truck parked half a mile east of here, hidden in a cave. I...I won't be needing anymore after today. You take Margaret and her grand kids, only them, and you get as far away from this place as you can." Marcus took a couple of steps forward, and his face was as hard as granite. "If you try to warn the others, I will not give you the time you need to escape. You know me; you know my reputation. I don't bluff...and I always keep my promises."

Dashwood listened to the Wanderer's words, and he looked down at the key ring. 'So much for a nice, easy retirement', the adventurer thought. "Fine. I give you my word. But listen, son." He took a step towards him, and Marcus tightened the grip on his gun. "I don't know what Allistair did to you. Hu, Lord knows he's not a saint, and I can tell from the look in your eyes it was something terrible. Now I can't tell you what to do - you're the one with the gun, but I've been where you are now, and I can tell you this: revenge, doesn't work."

Marcus thought about his answer for only a heart beat. "Sure it does."

To Dashwood's amazement, Marcus hoisted Tenpenny over his shoulder (made easy with his power armor), stepped up on the balcony's railing, and jumped off it. Dashwood ran over to the ledge - just in time to see Marucs' parachute deploy. The ex-adventurer watched as they landed safely on the ground, and Marcus carried the unconscious Tenpenny away from the tower that was his pride and joy. Looking down at the key ring, Dashwood picked up his shotgun and headed down to get Margaret and her grandchildren. When hell was coming, it was best to get out of it's way.

It was a philosophy that kept Dashwood alive for all these years.

Marcus carried Allistair north of Tenpenny Tower to the abandoned RobCo Facility just over a mile away. He was thankful it was dusk, because caring a body across the Waste was bad enough without the sun beating down on you. Marcus carried him to the roof of the facility, and tied Allistair to a chair, facing he toward the tower that shinned like a jewel in the darkness. Soon after, he began to wake up.

"Uh...what? What's going on? Where am I?"

Marcus didn't say a word. He walked in front of Allistair, and shoved his PIPBOY in the man's face. On the touch screen was the picture of a beautiful young girl, with brown hair and hazel eyes.

"Who...who is that?"

Marcus grabbed the man by the throat. "DON'T try to tell me you don't know who she is! Her name is Amata Almodovar...and she was the love of my life. Until you stole her from me!"

Tenpenny's eyes were suddenly filled with terror. "I don't know what you're talking about..."

Marcus back handed him across the face.

"How dare you!" Allistair spat. "Do you have any idea who I am? I am Allistair Tenpenny, the richest man in the Capitol, and I will have your head on a..."

Marcus punched him in the face, knocking out one of Allistair's teeth. He pulled out his pistol and pressed it against the man's temple. "DO YOU THINK YOU CAN THREATEN ME?" Rage was in his voice, and Marcus' hand was shaking. He desperately wanted to pull the trigger, but forced himself not to. Not yet. "I am the Lone FUCKING Wanderer! I slaughtered every slaver in Paradise Falls! I wiped the Enclave off the face of the Earth! And I am the one who slaughtered your friends at Fort Bannister!"

Allistair began weeping, and Marcus was sure the man had wet himself. "What...what do you want from me?"

Marcus backed off. "I want to know why. WHY, did you want me dead?"

Allistair hesitated - until Marcus pressed the pistol's barrel against his knee cap. "Because...you upset the natural order of things."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Allistair took a deep breath, and forced himself to look up at his captor. "It all started when you stopped the Megaton bomb from exploding; saving that eye sore!"

Marcus' mouth dropped open. "That was you?"

Tenpenny nodded. "Yes, and because of you, those savages that live in that shit hole executed my best man, Mr. Burke."

Marcus had heard that not long after the bomb incident, Burke had been found guilty of attempting to destroy Megaton (not that there was much of a trial), and was shot dead by Lucas Simms.

"But then you didn't stop there." Allistair continued. "Then you had to turn on that damn purifier, bringing fresh, clean water to these savages."

"What the hell's wrong with that?"

"Everything!" Allistair spat. "We were the only settlement that had purified water...and that's the way it should be!"

Marcus didn't think it was possible to hate this man anymore then he already did. "Why should you and the rest of your bigots be the only ones with access to fresh water?"

"Because...we deserve it, son. Because we are better then the rest of these savages! The strong will always rule over the weak, it is nature's way. Someone like you comes along and starts giving people hope, and the next thing you know, they start thinking that they are in charge! That they can determine their own fate!" He shook his head. "No. These people have to know their place. That's why do-gooders like you are eliminated."

As Marcus listened to Allistair's rant, his desire to kill this man grew with every word coming from his disgusting mouth. Forcing himself to keep his control, Marcus bent down and was face-to-face with the man. "Thank you for telling me." His voice took on a low, menacing tone. "Before you die, Tenpenny, you are going to know what it feels like to have the one thing you love more then anything else on this Earth, taken away from you."

Marcus stepped aside, and Allistair could see the lights of his beloved Tenpenny Tower. The settlement he had put his heart, sweat, and blood into. The symbol of his weath and power. His legacy.

Marcus began typing on his PIPBOY. Panic filled Tenpenny. "What...what are you doing?"

Marcus continued to type. "Just watch."

Sarah Lyons was in her quarters when Scribe Vallincourt burst inside. "Sentinel! Sentinel!"

Sarah jumped out of her cot. "What's the matter?"

Vallincourt took a moment to catch her breath. "It's...Knight Commander Lincoln...I found out what he downloaded..."

They were interrupted by the blare of alarms. Sarah threw on a pair of pants, and she and the scribe rushed towards the Lab. When they entered, Sarah spotted Scribe Rothchild over at the main computer...and the man looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Rothchild, what's happening?" Sarah asked.

Rothchild shook his head. "No! This...this can't be! It can't be..."

"What is it?" Sarah shouted, desperation in her voice.

"It's...it's Hercules! Someone has armed the Hercules!"

It was as if someone had let the air out of the room. "That's impossible!" Scribe Jameson said. "The crawler was destroyed, and we're the only ones with the launch codes!"

Rothchild, who was getting paler by the minute, was hitting every key on the panel. "Well someone just re-activated it! According to this, five bunker buster warheads are spinning up...and we can't stop it!"

Now Jameson began turning pale. "It must be the Enclave! Somehow their remnants managed to take control of the satellite!"

Sarah and Vallincourt looked at each other. No words were necessary; they both knew who was doing this.

It was all Sarah could do to keep from throwing up.

Allistair Tenpenny spotted the brilliant lights in the night sky, and at first he had no idea what they meant. As they began to descent towards his beloved Tenpenny Tower, his heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He knew what they were; he remembered the story of the battle of Adams Air Force base.

No!NO!" He began to jerk his arms and legs, desperately trying to break the restraints, and save his beloved tower. Marcus placed his hands on the man's shoulders and held him in place - he wanted Allistair to see everything.

The rockets hit there target almost simultaneously, and the two men felt the shock wave and hot wind even at this distance. Allistair screamed in agony as he watched the massive tower blown apart and reduced to ashes. Marcus stared at the mushroom cloud with grim satisfaction. He looked down at Tenpenny, who was sobbing uncontrollably. He was a broken man. A man who had just lost his reason for living.

Just like Marcus.

Without saying a word, the Lone Wanderer raised his pistol, and put a bullet in the back of Tenpenny's head.

Herbert Dashwood, Margaret, and her two grandchildren, were five miles away when they heard, and felt, the explosion. The retired adventurer stopped the truck and got out. The mushroom cloud that he saw rose to the heavens, and it was seen by everyone in the Capitol. All of those people, everyone Dashwood knew, were gone in an instant. He never agreed with many of them on a lot of things, but overall, they were good people who didn't deserve such a fate. He looked over at Margaret, who was holding her sobing grandchildren. Dashwood looked back at the mushroom cloud and he hung his head. "I've lived too long." he whispered.

Most of the town of Megaton had gathered inside Moriarty's Saloon to listen to the radio reports on what had happened at Tenpenny Tower. Rumors, of course, were flying around the bar. Everything from Enclave Remnants, to Chinese Communist - even aliens was offered up as an explanation. Two hours after the destruction of the Tower, Three Dog finally provided the truth...and it was more shocking than any rumor the town's people could dream up.

"Well children, my sources in the Brotherhood have informed me of what happened at the all so houty-touty Tenpenny Tower. It seems a weapons satellite made an unauthorized launch of five of it's missiles, which, as you all know, resulted in the complete destruction of the tower. As of right now, there don't appear to be any survivors. Let me assure all of you these were NOT nuclear warheads that hit. They were bunker busters; or really REALLY big bombs, so there's no danger of radioactive fallout. That's the good news. Now, the bad news." There was a pause, and the people could hear Three Dog sigh. "The unauthorized launch was initiated by the Lone Wanderer, Marcus Lincoln."

Sighs and gasped filled the bar. Three Dog continued.

"No one knows why he did it, but the Brotherhood has promised there will be an investigation. Now kid, if you're listening, I have no problem stick'in it to the man every now and then, but good GOD! That was over kill, even for you! I hope this isn't a start of things to come children...that's all I have to say. Now, some music."

No one said a word as Gob turned off the radio. No one was in the mood to listen to music. The door to the saloon opened...and everyone held their breath as Marcus stepped inside. Without acknowledging anyone, he calmly walked up to the bar; two of the patrons quickly getting up and relinquishing their seats. The bar was as quiet as a tomb as Marcus ordered. "Whiskey."

At first Gob wasn't sure what to do. He looked over at Jericho, who had his hand on his holster, and he nodded at the ghoul. With shaking hands, Gob poured the shot and handed it to Marcus, who immediately drank it down. "Give me another."

As Gob was about to pour another shot, the sound of a slow, steady clapping could be heard from the back of the bar. A moment later, the source of that clapping stepped out of his office, and took the whiskey bottle from the ghoul.

"Well, well. Congratulations on another fine days work." Moriarty sneered as he poured the whiskey in Marcus' shot glass. "That was some fine fireworks you pulled off there. I'm so impressed with ya I'm gonna do somethin' I've never done before." He pushed the glass closer to Marcus. "This one's on the house."

Marcus didn't say anything. He didn't even look at the gangster as he downed the shot.

"So tell me, what did ol Tenpenny do to ya? It must've been quite the slight for you to do that to him."

Marcus didn't answer.

Moriarty smiled and poured himself a shot, and then raised it high. "A toast! To the Lone Wanderer! Who proved that even a white knight, can fall down in the gutter with the rest of us..."

Marcus knocked the stool back as he stood up, drew his desert eagle and pointed it right at Moriarty's chest. Almost simultaneously Jericho had his pistol out, and Butch appeared to Marcus' right, brandishing his own.

"Don't do it, Marcus!" Butch said in a stern, but almost pleading way.

Marcus ignored him, and stood there pointing his gun at Moriarty, who calmly drank his shot of whiskey. Marcus wanted to kill him - wanted to since the day he'd first met him. He could kill the gangster and probably one of his henchmen, but the third would surly put a bullet in his head. A part of Marcus didn't care if that was how it played out. Tenpenny was dead. Amata was avenged. What else was there?

But no, he was not going to die at the hands of this scum. Moriarty's time would come, just not today. Holstering his pistol, Marcus turned and stormed out...and walked right into the rifle butt of a waiting Paladin Tristen.

When Marcus woke up, he found himself in the Citadel's brig, stripped of his armor and weapons. He sat down on the cold concrete floor, holding an ice pack to his forehead. He made a mental note to repay Paladin Tristen in kind.

The cell door opened, and an armed Knight walked in, followed by Sarah Lyons. "Wait outside." She said to the knight. Once he'd left, Sarah approached Marcus and stared down at him. He was a pitiful sight. "On your feet, soldier!"

Marcus ignored her. He didn't want to look at her.

She responded by kicking his leg. "I said, ON YOUR FEET!"

With a groan, Marcus placed the ice pack on the ground and stood up.

Sarah stepped closer, and was only inches from him. "Is it true?"

Marcus stared at the ground; he couldn't look her in the eye.

"LOOK AT ME! Is it true?"

Marcus forced himself to look into her eyes. They were filled with a mixture of anger and concern, and his voice was barely above a whisper. "Yes."

Though he should've expected it, the punch to the jaw caught Marcus by surprise, and he was knocked flat on his ass. Sarah hoisted him back up by his collar, and held him against the wall. "WHY?" she screamed.

Marcus' face and voice showed no emotion. "You know why."

Sarah let go of him, and she watched as he slid down the wall and once again sat on the floor. She was almost at a loss for words. She couldn't believe this was the same man who defeated the Enclave and saved the Citadel. "What were you thinking? There were nearly a hundred people in that building, most of them civilians!"

"They were bigots and elitist. They helped bankroll Tenpenny and his mercs. They got what they deserved."

Sarah could not believe her ears. "And what right do you have to decide who lives and who dies? When did you become God?"

"You didn't mind me passing judgement on people when it served your needs."

Sarah had to resist the urge to hit him again. "Bullshit! That was war, Marcus!"

"And what the hell do you think this is?"

"Going on a killing spree to avenge your dead girlfriend is not the same thing!" She pointed her finger at him. "You used your position in the Brotherhood to activate a weapon of mass destruction, and then used it to slaughter civilians! You betrayed our trust. You betrayed my father's trust! You betrayed..." her voice cracked, and she stopped herself from finishing the sentence.

Silence filled the small cell for a few moments, until Marcus finally took a deep breath. "What's done is done. I can't take it back. And even if I could, I wouldn't."

Sarah's patience had run out, and she knelled down and grabbed him by the shirt once again. "Tomorrow you will be court martialed; charged with treason and the illegal use of a weapon of mass destruction, Marcus. There is only one punishment for that!" Her voice strained, and she struggled to hold back the tears. "My father is going to put you in front of a firing squad...and there's nothing I can do about it!"

Marcus' eyes met hers - and that's when she saw how empty and dead they were. Sarah looked at him as if she didn't recognize him. Whoever this was, it was not the man she'd gone into battle with. It wasn't the man she'd trusted her life with, and it certainly wasn't the man she'd...

"But you don't care, do you?" her voice cracked.

Marcus didn't answer as she released her hold on him and stood up. She forced herself to turn around, and stood in front of the cell door. She barely looked over her right shoulder. "I should've let you DIE in that purifier!" The door opened, and she stormed out.

Marcus just sat there, staring at the empty space where'd she'd been just a moment before. "I wish you had." he whispered.

The next morning, the entire Eastern Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel gathered in the Citadel's courtyard. Elder Lyons, Scribe Rothchild, Paladin Tristen, and two other members of the council, sat on a platform at the far end of the bailey. Here, they would decide the fate of Knight Commander Marcus Lincoln, the Savior of the Citadel. Since this was an official court martial, Marcus was back in his power armor, and he was marched into the courtyard by four heavily armed Knights and Paladins. Brotherhood soldiers and scribes stood on both sides of the bailey, and while some of the faces were sympathetic, most were nothing but hostile. Marcus spotted the Pride standing to the right of the platform. While Colvin and Kodiak looked concerned, Glade and Dusk looked like they wanted to put a bullet in him. Gallows was of course unreadable, and neither Sarah, nor Star Paladin Cross bothered to look in his direction.

The Elder slammed down a gavel. "This court martial is now in session. Knight Commander Lincoln, you have been charged with committing high treason against the Brotherhood of Steel, and with the illegal use of a weapon of mass destruction, with which you used in the death of over eighty non-combatants." The Elder waited for the crowd to settle down. "Knight Commander Lincoln, do you understand the charges brought against you."

Marcus snorted. This was such waste of time, why don't they just get it over with.

One of his guards nudged him with his rifle. "Answer!"

Marcus gave the soldier a death stare, then turned back to the council. "I do."

Lyons nodded. "And how do you plead?"

"Guilty."

A roar erupted from the crowd, and the Elder slammed down the gavel again. "Order!" Once the crowd settled down, Lyons stared at the man whom he'd once called their champion...and his heart broke. Even though the evidence was over whelming, a small part of him hoped, that just maybe, there had been a terrible mistake. That the man who had been a beacon of hope for the Brotherhood and the Wasteland, the man he had thought of as...as a son...was not a traitor. But after hearing it from Marcus' own lips, the Elder was devastated. Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, Lyons stood up and, in an unprecedented move, stepped down from the platform and walked over to the prisoner. The guards tensed as the Elder stood directly in front of Marcus.

"Marcus," Lyons began, "you have admitted to committing a terrible act; one that cannot be unpunished. But, I want to here from your own lips why? Why did you do such a terrible thing?"

Marcus' voice was without emotion as he answered. "I have nothing to say."

The Elder could not contain the look of shock on his face, nor could the crowd of soldiers hide their disgust. "Marcus, think very careful about how you answer. Your fate hangs in the balance. I need to understand what made you do this. From the moment you walked into this fortress we took you in, made you one of our own. You were the hero of Project Purity, Savior of the Citadel...and I looked to you as a son."

For a moment, one could swear that Marcus' face betrayed a pang of guilt.

"Tell me Marcus." The Elder pressed.

Marcus swallowed the lump in his throat. He could tell them what Tenpenny had done, how he killed the woman he loved. He could get down on his knees and beg for mercy...but there was no point to it. In the end it didn't matter to them why he did what he did. He was guilty. Guilty of steeling Hercules and using it to destroy Tenpenny Tower and everyone in it. The residents were hardly innocent, but that didn't matter to the Brotherhood. Worst of all though, he was guilty of letting Amata die. It wasn't Tenpenny, or Talon Company, or even the sniper who fired the fatal shot. It was him. It was his actions that brought death to the woman he loved...and now he had to pay.

"What I have done...I was compelled to do."

Another roar escaped from the crowd of soldiers and scribes, and Paladin Tristen nearly broke the gavel trying to restore order. The Elder let out a tired sigh. "So be it. What I do now, I am compelled to do." He slowly, and with a heavy heart, climbed the steps back up to the platform. He didn't bother to sit down. "Marcus Lincoln, step forward."

Marcus obeyed and stood defiantly, as he wondered how it would feel to be shot.

"This court martial finds you guilty of all charges. In accordance with our laws there is only one...punishment for your crimes: death. However," the Elder looked around at his council, "I have decided to suspend that sentence."

The crowd erupted once again, and no one was more surprised, or disappointed, then Marcus.

Paladin Tristen nearly jumped out of his seat. "Elder, what are you say?"

Elder Lyons calmly raised his hand, and waited for everyone to settle down. "In recognition of your invaluable service to the Brotherhood and the people of the Capitol Wasteland, It is my judgement that you shall be stripped of all rank, and caste out of the Brotherhood of Steel. All of your tech will be confiscated, and you are forbidden from coming within one-hundred yards of any Brotherhood controlled territory or personnel. If you do, lethal force will be authorized."

Marcus hung his head. No, this was not how it was suppose to be! He wasn't suppose to live!"

"This sentence, is to be carried out immediately." The Elder signaled the guards, and they immediately grabbed a hold of Marcus, and stripped the power armor off of him, until he was standing in just a jump suit. The guards forced him on his knees, and ripped his left sleeve off, exposing his Brotherhood emblem tattoo. Before Marcus realized what was happening, another soldier appeared holding a steel rod, with a red-hot steel plate at the end of it. As the guards held him in place, the metal was placed over the tattoo, and Marcus screamed as it was burned off. When the plate was removed, all that remained was blackened flesh.

Paladin Tristen stood up and addressed the crowd. "Brotherhood, attention!"

Everyone in the courtyard snapped to attention.

"About, face!"

Everyone turned around, exposing their backs to Marcus.

As the former Knight Commander struggled to get on his feet, the main gate to the Citadel opened, and the four guards, now standing between him and the council, pointed there guns at him. Cradling his burned arm, Marcus slowly walked down the middle of the courtyard, towards the main gate.

Elder Lyons spoke so that all could hear him. "Let the name of Marcus Lincoln, be stricken from every scribe and historical document. Let it be stricken from the pages of the codex itself." The Elder struggled to keep his voice from cracking as he watched Marcus' slow walk of shame. "Let the name...of Marcus Lincoln, be unheard and unspoken within our ranks. May it be erased from the memory of the Brotherhood...for all time."

Marcus took his final steps out of the Citadel, and the gate slowly closed. Elder Lyons felt like he'd aged ten years, and he hung his head.

Marcus Lincoln wandered into the Waste, a broken and shattered man.