November 13, 2287 – Goodneighbor had the illusion of being a tucked away protected area in the middle of the city. It was walled off on all sides, only accessible by the main entrance off what was now an alleyway eventually leading to the Common. But even as I tried to sleep, there were constant sounds of Vertiberds overhead, firefights in the distance, and explosions. Hancock might have controlled what was going on inside the borders of this town, but outside, there was a still a war, apparently now between the Brotherhood and the various rogue forces that were competing for resources and political control. Even the Minutemen, stuck in the northwest corner of the Commonwealth, were involved in that battle, as Preston and his crew tried to eke out their version of freedom for the expanding array of settlements that allied themselves with the faction. At first, it seemed to be good guys vs. the bad guys. But it was getting increasingly difficult to tell who was who anymore. I had a feeling if I got to someone representing the Institute at some point, they’d probably think they had a good reason for doing what they were doing as well. Maybe they would feel they were trying to protect mankind somehow, or maybe they’d feel mankind wasn’t worth protecting.
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