The approach to Diamond City was underwhelming.
To call it a fortified city was generous. Nate studied the perimeter: sandbags sagging like afterthoughts, crumbling barricades patched with sheet metal, and guards in baseball uniforms gripping rust-flaked shotguns like props in a bad play. Only two of them wore anything close to a standard-issue police jacket — faded relics from a time when law meant something.
Nate brought his column to a halt just short of the gate. Preston Garvey stood at his side, silent but alert. Behind them, two Minutemen scouts held the colors high — a show of legitimacy more than threat.
That's when Nate heard raised voices at the gate. He leaned forward.
The infamous Piper Wright. No surprise. The firebrand reporter stood toe-to-toe with Diamond City's puffed-up mayor, McDonough, her voice slicing through the marketplace air like a razor.
"…and you still haven't explained the disappearances," she snapped, eyes locked on him. "People are vanishing—residents, traders, even guards—and your so-called 'security force' refuses to widen patrols or investigate beyond the walls."
McDonough's forced smile flickered. He adjusted his coat, voice oily with forced calm.
McDonough: "Miss Wright, Diamond City Security is not in the business of chasing every wasteland rumor. We protect the people inside these walls. That's where our responsibility ends."
Piper: "So you're saying anyone taken outside the gate doesn't matter? That they're just written off as wasteland losses?"
McDonough's smile vanished completely.McDonough: "I'm saying your constant grandstanding is a danger to public order. Keep inciting panic, and I will revoke your residency permit. This city does not have room for agitators."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. A few stepped back instinctively. Piper's expression didn't flinch.
Piper: "Evicting your critics now? That's a bold move, even for you. But go ahead—show everyone just how much truth scares you."
McDonough's jaw clenched.McDonough: "Watch yourself, Wright."
Nate watched as Piper jabbed a finger at the mayor's chest. "That gossip is the only reason anyone knew about last month's mutant raid. Your guards were too busy playing baseball."
Then McDonough spotted them.
The change was instant — his scowl turned sharp, defensive. "You've got to be kidding me. Them?" His voice rang with distaste. "You're not coming in."
Nate stepped forward, controlled. His voice steady. "I'm General Nate of the Minutemen. I'm here looking for my son. I'm not here for a fight. I just need access."
McDonough curled his lip. "This city doesn't need another armed militia stomping through the market. Especially one waving pipe guns and charity badges."
Preston bristled. Nate felt him start to speak — then raised a hand. Not here. Not now.
He turned without another word and motioned for his men to pull back, signaling toward Hangman's Alley. The scouts hesitated, then obeyed.
McDonough smirked. "Good decision."
But Nate kept walking, never looking back.
Preston didn't speak until they were well away from the Diamond City gate — out of earshot of the mayor's smug condescension and the reporter's fury. The walk back to Hangman's Alley had been quiet, but not calm. Tension crackled under every bootstep.
When they finally reached the shade of a rusted awning, Preston broke the silence.
"You should've let me say something."
His voice was low, almost even. But Nate heard the edge beneath it — the tight restraint of a man trying not to snap.
Nate didn't answer right away. He busied himself unbuckling his chest strap, scanning the alley's perimeter like they were still on patrol. Eventually, he said, "Would've made a scene. And that's what McDonough wanted."
Preston nodded, slowly, but his jaw tightened. "Yeah. But letting him spit on us like that? On you? You're the only reason half the settlements in this region didn't get wiped out this year. That man's got no right to bar us from the city."
"He's just scared," Nate replied. "We're organized. We're armed. He thinks we're a threat to his authority."
Preston scoffed. "We are a threat — to tyrants. Not people trying to live their lives. Big difference."
He stepped toward Nate, voice dropping into a firmer tone. "We can't help people if we're treated like outlaws. Sooner or later, the Minutemen need to be more than tolerated. We need to be respected."
Nate met his gaze. "And we will be. But we'll do it on our terms — not his."
That seemed to cool Preston's fire, at least a little. He exhaled through his nose, glancing back in the direction of Diamond City.
"So what now?"
Nate looked toward the skyline, toward the green-tinted dome that sat like a crown atop the stadium ruins.
"Now?" he said. "We go around. There's more than one way into a locked city."
Later That Day – Hangman's Alley, Command Post
The holoterminal flickered to life in the dim command post, and Sarah's image resolved — sharp, poised, and visibly irritated. She didn't waste time.
"The new Mayor's a coward," she said flatly. "The previous one? He and I had a deal. After that cosntant mutant and raider tore their defenses to shreds over the times, we slipped them real gear through back channels. But when I stopped using intermediaries—due to my absent cause capital incident."
Nate said nothing. Just watched her, arms crossed.
She leaned in, eyes cold behind the glow of the interface.
"You want in? Offer him what he wants: a 'neutral' PMC that keeps his voters from hanging him in the market square."
A manifest appeared on-screen. She sent it without ceremony.
Police-grade body armor
Tactical helmets with integrated optics
Three sets of riot-pattern power armor, civilian-coded
Compact sidearms with fast-swap magazines
Everything marketable. Everything useful. Labeled Division surplus, but scrubbed clean — nothing traceable to her real operation.
Nate skimmed the list. Real gear. Not military, but close. The kind of equipment that turned tired security guards into symbols of strength.
He nodded once. "Let's see if desperation makes the man."
Evening shadows stretched long across the Commons by the time Nate returned to the Diamond City Gate. No banners. No squad. Just him, Preston, and a flatbed cart with a crate draped under canvas.
No weapons raised. No challenge shouted. Just still tension behind the Diamond City wall.
McDonough emerged himself this time. Not hiding behind his guards. That told Nate enough.
The mayor's eyes landed on the crate. "What's this?"
Nate stepped forward. Calm. "A goodwill shipment. Police-grade, non-lethal first. Optical gear. Stabilized armor. Enough to help your people feel protected again."
McDonough's expression flickered. Suspicion, calculation… hunger.
"Where's the catch?"
"No catch," Nate said. "Just access. No patrols. No banners. Just me and Garvey."
A beat passed.
Then McDonough sighed. "Fine. You'll be watched. No Minutemen inside the walls. But… we'll take the gear."
The gates creaked open.
Always easier to move forward when someone's scared of standing still, Nate thought.
The city was not exactly as he remembered at Inside the Green Jewel— cracked concrete, glowing signs, rust-patched towers pressing up against the night. The smell of hot oil, brahmin stew, and desperation lingered like old smoke.
But something had shifted.
Already, the guards at the entrance were pulling on Division riot armor. Visors down. Chin straps clipped. For the first time in weeks, Diamond City looked like it could protect itself — and the crowd noticed.
As he crossed into the market, a voice cut through the din.
"You're General Nate?"
He turned. A woman stepped forward — lean, dark hair under a cap, notebook already in hand. Piper Wright.
"I am," he said.
She stared for half a second longer than most. "You just walked past the Mayor's blockade with a smile and three crates of modern kit. Now that's a headline."
Nate kept walking.
"You want a quote?" he asked.
She caught up. "Yeah. Hit me."
He paused, gaze flicking up toward the glowing ruin of the skyline. Then back to her.
"Write this down," he said. "We're not here to rule. We're here to rebuild."
She blinked — and smiled like she'd just struck gold.
"Perfect."