Aria laughs softly and rolls to the side, propping herself up on one elbow. "Practice," she says teasingly. Her gaze drifts over your body, taking in every defined muscle and scar. "Besides, it's not just me you should be thanking for that." She reaches out a hand to touch your cheek gently, her fingertips tracing the lines of your jaw.

"We make quite a team," she whispers, her eyes meeting yours. "

Aria's cheeks flush at your words and she giggles nervously. "I-is that really necessary?" She glances around, as if worried someone might hear you. "We are in the Brotherhood, after all." Her hand drifts down between her legs, tracing idle circles over her still-swollen folds.

"But," she continues with a mischievous glint in her eye, "I suppose I could...wear something thin and barely there. Like a thong or something."

The leader narrows her eyes at your show of defiance, but remains silent. It seems she's willing to hear you out...for now.

Malice's eyes widen in surprise at your words. It seems she was not aware of the Brotherhood's victory over the Enclave. After a moment of silence, she lets out a humorless chuckle. "So be it," she says, her voice laced with bitterness. "You may power up the weapon if you wish. But know this: our revenge will still be had...one way or another."

What do you want to say or do next?

West Virginia's battle-scarred landscape stretches out before you. Radio broadcasts signal distant settlements. Rumors whisper of a mysterious figure called "The Respondent" guiding the region's fate. Will you seek answers in Charleston's ruins or venture further east?

The dim glow of the setting sun casts long shadows across the abandoned streets of Charleston. The once-thriving city now lies in ruin, a testament to the devastating power of nuclear war. The sound of scuttling creatures echoes through the desolate landscape, accompanied by the faint hum of strange machinery. As you step out of the vault, a chill runs down your spine. The world has changed forever, leaving behind only fragments of its former glory. A lone figure approaches, its weathered face twisted in a mixture of curiosity and hostility.

You key your comms once more. "Jenkins, I've found a way to draw their attention away from you. Stand by." Before he can respond, you take aim at the largest boulder nearby and fire several rounds into it, creating an enormous plume of dust and rock fragments. The Legionnaires immediately turn towards your position, reacting to the commotion.

"Now, Jenkins!" you shout as you quickly reload. "Take this chance to finish the job!"

Jenkins nods grimly and signals to his squad to move in on the array. They spring into action, swiftly disabling the equipment and planting explosives before retreating back to your position. You continue to keep an eye on the Legionnaires, but they seem distracted by the dust cloud you created earlier.

As the rest of your squad reunites with you, Jenkins claps you on the shoulder. "Nice work out there, Mordred. That was some quick thinking." He pauses for a moment before continuing. "Alright, everyone, let's get out of here before they realize we've been and gone." With that, your squad begins its retreat back to base, leaving the smoldering ruins of the Legion communications array in their wake.

The raiders lead you to their makeshift camp on the outskirts of Old Oak Station, a collection of tents and improvised shelters constructed from scavenged materials. The leader of the group, a man named Jake, motions for you to sit down on an upturned crate next to a roaring fire. He eyes you warily as he speaks.

"So, kid... what're you doing out here all alone? You shouldn't be poking your nose into our business."

Jake laughs bitterly. "You think we did that? We're just trying to survive out here like everyone else. The Enclave must have sent those raiders in from New Vegas. They want this place for themselves." He pauses, studying your face before continuing. "Look, kid... we need people who know how to handle themselves around here. You seem like you can fight back. Want to join us?"

The girl flinches at your harsh words but does not back down. Her eyes narrow defiantly as she replies, "But if I don't learn how to fight, we will always be helpless against them! Please, master... teach me." Her voice carries a newfound strength that you can't ignore.

The girl glances down at her swollen stomach before looking back up at you with determination. "I'm about three months along now." She pauses, considering your question carefully. "But I can still train a bit until the baby comes. Please, master... let me learn how to protect myself and those who matter most to me."

Her plea echoes in your mind, refusing to be ignored. You find yourself wondering what kind of life these girls would have if left at the mercy of the Blackfoot Militia or any other raider faction that might come along. Perhaps teaching them to fight isn't such a bad idea...