Park Street Station – Charlie Team Deployment
The old subway tunnel groaned as dust fell from the cracked ceiling. Nate moved with purpose, Division-issue pre war rifle low and steady. Charlie Team — a tight-knit Minutemen strike unit — fanned out behind him.
Ahead lay Vault 114.
Objective: Locate and extract Detective Nick Valentine from triggerman.
Vault 81 Exterior – Commonwealth Reservoir
The vault entrance was quiet, hidden near the reservoir's sloped edge, nestled in a patch of overgrowth and forgotten concrete. The vault's floodlights flickered, still alive with pre-war tech. The steel door remained shut — sealed for generations.
Sarah stood at the terminal, flanked by HK416 and UMP45, both in low guard stances.
UMP45: "Still no patrols. Either they're scared… or aiming through cameras."
HK416: "Vaults weren't built to be trusting. And we don't exactly scream 'welcome committee.'"
Sarah: "Which exactly why AR team watching over Starlight. Last thing we need is SOPMOD 'negotiating' with variety Explosives."
She entered Division clearance codes into the terminal — encrypted, pre-registered under neutral humanitarian outreach protocols.
Sarah (into mic):
"This is Commander Sierra, Division Commonwealth Command. Requesting non-hostile entry to Vault 81 for support and medical consultation. My team remains outside. Repeat: no aggression intended."
Silence.
Then static broke with a clipped, controlled voice.
Overseer McNamara (filtered):
"We've heard of your Division, Commander. You are no the Brotherhood, but you're still carrying weapons and tech that makes my people nervous."
Sarah: "Then I enter alone. Unarmed. You can scan me on entry. My T-Dolls stay outside, low power, no aggression."
UMP45 (smile dryly): "Did she just call us 'low power'? what become statue? kek"
HK416 sighed: "Contain yourself. She meant it metaphorically."
A tense pause followed before McNamara replied.
McNamara: "…You'll be under armed escort the moment the door opens. We don't take risks with strangers."
Sarah: "Understood. I'm not here to pressure your Vault. But if your systems are failing — and they are — Division tech can help."
Another beat of silence. Then, with a mechanical groan, the vault door locks began to disengage. Dust shook loose as massive gears turned.
Overseer McNamara (reluctant):
"Step inside, Commander. But understand — any betrayal, and we seal that door behind you forever."
Sarah handed her rifle and side arm off to HK416, then stepped forward.
Sarah: "Hold your position. Do not fire unless I give the order."
HK416: "Copy. Passive overwatch."
The vault door cracked open with a thunderous hiss, light flooding the entry hall.
Sarah disappeared into the sterile light, while HK416 and UMP45 remained at their post — statues in the fog.
The blast door groaned shut behind her, sealing out the wasteland and bathing the room in sterile, flickering light. Sarah stood alone in the decontamination chamber — hands open, no weapons, SHD badge clipped prominently to her coat.
Three Vault 81 security officers waited on the other side, visors down, laser rifles steady but not raised.
Security Chief Alton: "Arms spread. No sudden moves."
Sarah complied. A red scan beam passed over her body — pausing briefly at her Division-issued commlink and encrypted data module.
Security Chief Alton: "Neural-linked tech, synthetic muscle fiber, thermal suppression gear… you walk like a mercenary."
Sarah (cool): "That's because I've survived things that don't ask questions first."
The scan chimed — clean. No contraband, no weapons. The inner door opened.
At the end of the corridor, Overseer McNamara stood waiting.
She was in her late 40s — sharp eyes, short-cropped faded red hair graying at the edges, her Vault suit crisp under a reinforced vest. Two deputies flanked her, but she held authority like a shield.
McNamara: "Commander Sierra, of the Division. You made it inside."
Sarah: "Vault-Tec always did love red tape."
McNamara: "We've kept this place running for over two centuries without outside help. But now… our water purifiers are failing, crops have root rot, and our reactor's degrading faster than we can patch it."
She crossed her arms.
McNamara (measured): "So when you showed up waving promises of assistance, I had a decision to make."
Sarah: "And you've made it."
McNamara: "Temporarily. You get access to non-critical systems. Engineering, diagnostics, limited medical interface. No armories. No reactor core. No unescorted movement."
Sarah: "Understood. My team stays outside, but they'll monitor my signal. If anything happens to me…"
McNamara (interrupting): "Then we seal the vault again and deny entry to anyone with your kind of hardware. Let's not pretend this is goodwill. You need something from us."
Sarah (after a pause): "A synth detective named Valentine is missing. The trail led to Vault 114 — but his investigation touched on Vault 81 before that. I need to know if your people have had any recent contact with him."
McNamara frowned, exchanging a look with her aide.
McNamara: "Valentine asked for access months ago. Wanted to verify some preserved personnel records. We refused. Vault security takes precedent."
Sarah: "Then help me now, and maybe this time, security can benefit from the exchange."
McNamara didn't answer at first. She stepped aside and gestured down the hall.
McNamara: "Let's see what you can fix. Then we'll talk records."
Sarah nodded and walked with her down the corridor — past sealed doors and curious eyes of Vault citizens peeking from behind corners.
The air hummed with the sick buzz of overworked systems. Sarah knelt beside a diagnostic panel, her eyes scanning the failing readout as heat shimmered off warped conduit lines. Next to her, Vault Technician Alvarez wiped his brow.
Alvarez: "We've swapped every regulator we can scavenge. Doesn't matter. We can't keep output stable."
Sarah frowned. Her hand slipped to a device clipped to her chest rig — a SHD brick, worn from years of field use. But unlike its original purpose as a Division signal hub, this one had been jury-rigged.
She tapped a hidden side port.
The device pulsed softly, releasing a low-frequency sensor sweep — adapted for subterranean echo-mapping. The LED glowed faint green, then blinked orange.
Sarah (quietly): "hmmm it amazing your vault still function but...Draw... below the sublevel. Something's leeching power through sealed conduits."
Alvarez paled. "That area's sealed. there no known record of them—"
A scream rang out through the ductwork above. Young. Agonized.
[Scene: Vault 81 Medical Bay – Moments Later]
A boy writhed on a cot, his arm hideously swollen from a molerat bite. His skin was graying, veins bulging and blackened. Dr. Penske scrambled with stimpaks and anti-venoms. The readings were erratic as none of his remedy can relieve symptom of the elements.
Sarah's SHD brick pinged again — not from electrical flux, but from a biological signature anomaly.
SHD Brick HUD: "Contaminant detected. Bio-tag: Vault-Tec encoding. Recombinant pathogen."
Sarah locked eyes with Overseer McNamara, who stood grim and silent.
Sarah: "That molerat wasn't from any random common mole nest. This strain seem artificial."
McNamara: "We've been sealed for decades. That sublevel was decommissioned long before—"
Sarah (cutting in): "well it's active now. AND I'm going in."
McNamara hesitated, then keyed open an old weapons locker nearby.
McNamara: "Only thing left from before the lockdown. M590 combat shotgun. Clean. You'll need it."
Sarah racked the weapon, then rechecked her modified SHD brick — clipped with a secondary pulse loop and heat-mapping extension. She quietly loaded a chem capsule into her launcher holstered at the hip — a compact model built from salvaged Division schematics.
McNamara eyed her, but said nothing.
Sarah (low): "I'm not just trying to save that kid. I'm going to find out what Vault-Tec buried under your home and put the STOP of it."
She chambered a round with a heavy click and stepped toward the sealed sublevel door.