Fallout: Wasteland Doll Commander

Sergeant Ramirez's Perspective

The streets of Cambridge weren't quiet—they were dead.

Buildings loomed like broken teeth under a slate sky, windows long shattered, doorways yawning like graves. Sergeant Ramirez crouched behind the rusted wreck of an old APC west of College Square, raising his fist up. Halt.

Delta Squad mirrored his motion with sharp precision. Five troopers which not veterans—not yet—but freshly molded under General Nate's bootcamp discipline and trialed in fire from Lexington. Even tho their gear was just a patchwork of salvaged armor and hand-me-down combat harnesses. But they moved like soldiers. Because that's what they were hope to becoming.

Ramirez glanced at the rifle in his hands—one of the new Service Rifles, issued through the Division's mysterious backchannel. It wasn't just a gun. It was sent a message to the people: We're not scavengers, farmers or some poor militia desperate hold anymore. Beside it's far better than old poor moddable pipe rifle and legacy handdown rifle from family.

He toggled his shortwave.

Ramirez: "Delta-1 to all units. Visual on targets, northeast alley. Ghouls. Forty meters. Controlled burst fire. On my mark."

No fear in the line. The squad moved into a textbook cross-pattern firing formation. Breathing steady. Weapons up.

Then the ghouls came—shamblers at first, their wails echoing down the concrete corridor. A dozen, maybe more, spilling out of the alleys like a flood. Ramirez exhaled and gave the mark.

Controlled bursts cracked through the air. 5.56mm tore through rotted skulls with brutal precision. Laser musket beams lit the haze in sharp blue flashes. Still they held—tight spacing, clear arcs of fire. The training was holding.

Then the second wave hit—faster, more aggressive. And glowing ones.

Ramirez hissed through his teeth.

Ramirez: "Radiants incoming! Focus fire, watch spacing and it's radiation!"

Corporal Mendez caught a glancing blow—deep slash across her arm. Ramirez pulled her behind a busted newsstand, returning fire without missing a beat.

No time for hesitation.

No time to wonder the reason the ghouls clustered so tight around the police station like fresh meal gangling in open field.

All that mattered was keeping Delta alive.

Ahead, the Cambridge Police Station stood like a battered island. Muzzle flashes from the upper floors confirmed what the signal had said—someone was still inside. Still holding out.

Ramirez: "Delta-1 to all units—hold this block. Secure north approach. Don't let a single freak past us."

They fought for twenty-seven brutal minutes.

By the end, their armor was dented, weapons scorched, ammo packs nearly dry. But Delta was still standing. Shaken—but not broken. Their line had held.

Ramirez raised his binoculars. Through a shattered second-story window of the station, a hulking figure in power armor stepped forward. Helmeted. Silent. Watching.

There was no wave nor a salute.

Just a long look—then the Brotherhood warrior vanished behind steel shutters.

[Encrypted Field Report – Sergeant Ramirez]

Field Report: Operation STATIC VEIL

Objective: Neutralize feral ghoul presence, suppress perimeter threats at Cambridge Police Station

Outcome: Successful. 32 confirmed hostiles eliminated. 1 injured (non-critical). No civilian/ally contact engaged.

Special Note: Service Rifles maintained function under extended fire. No malfunctions. Suppression fire against glowing variant effective at medium range. Recommend future resupply via standard drop.

No Brotherhood communication initiated. Orders followed.

— Sgt. Cole Ramirez, Delta Lead