The General Side Stories

Sanctuary's Leader

Tyler wasn't what you would call a good man. He'd be the first to point that out. It's why it was surprising when he was assigned to be a provisioner, a job that needed a good person to do because they were necessary for supplies delivered between places. He was thankful to find the time to send a letter to his nephew in Diamond City to have him come to their new home. He was dumbstruck when he had been assigned as the leader because he didn't look the part.

"Hey, Tyler!" he heard someone yell as he was walking the streets, making sure everyone was doing their job. When he turned, he saw one of the new guards who were assigned to the front gate. "Jameson found someone by the bridge."

"Bring him in and lay him down on one of the unclaimed," Tyler ordered, referring to the beds they had made in a bunkhouse. "Have Jameson guard them until they wake."

"Sure thing, sir," the guard said, and Tyler went back to patrolling the neighborhood.

After a while, he went to the small farm they had going on and started to make sure people were working. When he saw an old lady working slower than the others, he approached her and knelt beside her.

"Do you need help, Mama Murphy," he asked her with concern. She wasn't exactly looking good, and the chems she took didn't help.

"Thank you, Tyler," she said as he started to help her pick mutfruit. "You're a good man."

"I don't know about that. I have a lot of regrets."

"For someone so young, you've suffered so much. Your goal is so close, yet so far. Only thing keeping you from reaching it time."

"Well, I don't deserve that," Tyler said with a sigh. "Not with what I've done."

After they finished picking the food, Tyler helped her carry the food to the mess hall's kitchens.

"When's the nephew coming in, Kynigan," the cook asked as he was preparing that night's dinner.

"Should be here by tomorrow," Tyler said with a grin. "He'll be my... assistant for the first week while I figure out what he's best for. He's always been a jack of all trades."

"That's too bad. You know what they say: jack of all trades, master of none."

"But better than a master of one." Tyler chided. "You may be a good cook, but you need more than cooking skills to survive."

"Cheeky bastard," the cook laughed. "Sometimes I wonder where you come from."

"DC," Tyler informed him. "And that's all you're getting from me. Anyway, don't forget to make sure not to use corn unless you're making starch. Derrick's allergic to the stuff."

"Plenty of stuff to use besides corn. But hey. The General is the one who got this place up and running. Makes one think: who's really in charge here?"

"The General," Tyler answered curtly. "He just put me in charge when he isn't here. Even then, anything big like new buildings have to go through him before they're approved."

The cook was interrupted by a man coming in the door carrying a Radtsag on his shoulders.

"Hey asshat! I'm here for this week's delivery to the Rocket!" the man yelled as he slammed the corpse onto a table. "Also, I got this bastard yesterday when I was hunting. Should last you guys a week. If you're smart."

"What happened to the other guy," Tyler questioned, as this was his first time meeting this man. When he stepped up to him, the first noticeable thing was the height difference, the man being a good four to six inches taller than him. The other notable trait he had was a scar going from under his eye to his jaw, and it looked like he'd had it for years.