I, the undead, save the world with the dolls

"Of course...of course." Old Popsicle moved to the back of the power armor. He deftly unfolded the extremely thick armor and slipped inside. With a gentle mechanical sound, the power armor closed again, and the nuclear fusion core began to steadily supply power.

"The energy supply is stable, and the remaining time of the core...it can probably be used for a few years, which is enough. All parts are functioning well." Old Popsicle skillfully operated the T51 power armor and walked in front of the people. He put the metal helmet on his head and his voice became buzzing.

"Now you have become more capable. After you leave, don't forget us brothers." The volunteer army general nodded with a smile.

So power armor is such a powerful thing in Boston on the East Coast? Ariana sighed inwardly. She couldn't help but think back to the time when the Commander led a large number of humanoids to confront the Mojave Brotherhood head-on.

Aliana hadn't participated in that battle, but judging from the video, the armor was roughly equivalent to that of some armored vehicles. While that level of protection was adequate for humans, it was clearly insufficient to withstand the firepower of the commander.

Perhaps this is the difference in strength. Aliana watched the old popsicle spin around happily several times.

The postman next to him was not wearing a mask for the time being. She also looked at the excited Old Popsicle with a puzzled look on her face, but she still politely applauded and congratulated Old Popsicle.

"Can you spray the Volunteer Army pattern on this power armor? I think no matter where I go in the future... I can show my identity..." Old Popsicle said excitedly after he finished speaking.

"Yes, of course. You can represent our Volunteer Army." Several generals nodded in agreement, and a few people came over with paint buckets to paint. Soon the Volunteer Army logo appeared on Old Popsicle's power armor.

"Also, after we told others about your story, a soldier here volunteered to accompany you in the battle, and he just happened to come back." The volunteer army general looked outside.

Preston Garvey, the loyal and warm-hearted volunteer soldier walked into the camp with a bewildered look on his face. He had not yet understood the situation when he first came in.

"What's going on with this power armor? Why is Mr. Knight on it? What happened?" Preston quickly asked the people around him.

"Gavi, Mr. Knight is about to leave the camp and go in search of his children. I think he might need help..." The volunteer general winked.

"Please be sure to take me with you. This is my duty, Mr. Knight." Preston reacted immediately and gave Old Popsicle a very standard salute.

He was personally quite embarrassed. He had been supposed to be in charge of this matter. Instead, he had been out there with his team for a long time without getting any information. Now, he couldn't wait to leave... Preston was also feeling bitter, but he couldn't express his pain.

"I have no objection. Come on, Preston, this adventure may be quite long." Old Popsicle also agreed readily.

Putting aside the fact that the search has made no progress during this period, Preston, as a warrior trained by Old Popsicle, has good fighting ability and qualities. At least he has a keen sense of smell during battle and can escape unscathed every time.

"Gavi, Mr. Knight has been appointed as the next reserve general through our meeting." The volunteer general next to him reminded.

"Understood! Please give the order, General!" Preston immediately corrected his tone.

"General...Okay, you can call me anything." Old Popsicle didn't think much of this title, he just accepted it silently.

After a lot of chaos, at dawn the next day, two men and two women set out from the Quincy Volunteer Base in the south.

Old Popsicle already has his own destination - the town of Goodneighbor. As people in the Boston area become more active again, this lawless place has become more popular.

His new breakthrough started from this city.

302 Old Popsicle's Journey (Part )

The weather is getting hotter.

The sun overhead cast its intense light and heat across this post-war landscape. The roofs of the wrecked cars lining the road gleamed in the sunlight, and even approaching them was enough to feel a wave of heat.

The empty houses on both sides of the road were filled with hot and humid air. Even if there was wind, it only blew the hot and humid air onto people's bodies and faces.

In this high temperature and high humidity environment, this gust of wind has no effect other than being annoying.

Old Popsicle was strolling along the road in his power armor. The armor shell had been scorching under the sun for a while, and it was scorching hot. If he reached out and touched it, he would probably get burned.

Next to him was the big postman in the power suit who was chattering non-stop, Preston who was answering her random questions, and Ariana who remained silent the whole time.

Although it's not midsummer, the weather is always changing. There are no weather forecasts, so most travelers have to rely on experience to plan their own routes.

But for the people of Boston, the warning they needed most was the radioactive dust storm blowing in from the Luminous Sea.

In addition to vigilance and reconnaissance, the most important task of the observation posts set up at various strongholds is to observe whether radioactive dust will blow over from the luminous sea in the southwest.

When the dust blows over, people will move what can be packed into their homes as soon as possible, then block the door and wait quietly for several days until the radiation content outside the environment is relatively low before going out.

Fortunately, each settlement has now compiled a relatively complete set of records, which record the time when radioactive dust blew up in previous years. By comparing those tables, we can roughly estimate the time when radioactive dust will blow over in the future.

Of course, there is no radioactive dust blowing over at this time. Old Popsicle checked the calendar before going out, and Boston does not have to endure the impact of the radioactive dust explosion during this period.

"So, you have to hide in the house for several days every year to avoid the radiation storm? It's a wonder you can still stay here." The postman started chatting with Preston eagerly. She was a person who could not stand silence. How could she not find some topics to chat when traveling on the road?

"Actually, we're used to it. We used to live in a fortress on the coast, which wasn't affected that much. It's just that we encountered all kinds of bad things. The castle was destroyed, the volunteers fell apart...so our group ran all the way to Quincy and settled down." Preston explained in detail.

In Boston, population distribution also varied according to the environment. Simply put, the closer to the Glowing Sea, the harsher the environment and the fewer people there were. Spreading outward from the Glowing Sea, past parks and the ruins of dilapidated high-rise buildings, the population gradually began to grow.

This is also why there are so many settlements of all sizes in the city and the northern suburbs; no one wants to get close to the glowing sea. And those steel forests that can still stand firm after being hit by nuclear bombs can, to a certain extent, block the radiation storm.

After being blocked by the ruins of the city, the remaining radioactive dust had been reduced to a level that people could barely accept, otherwise they would not have been able to crawl out and continue their lives after a few days.

"What about the crops? People can run, but how can the crops?" Old Popsicle was also quite curious about this. After all, wheat and other crops couldn't just absorb the radioactive dust. The crops here would be too resilient. "Should we cover them with nets?"

"You're right, General. On the farms in the north, the most important thing for farmers in the winter is to figure out what to cover their crops with. Different crops require different coverings. The volunteers used to give farmers advance warning and then go down to help cover the crops. That way, the harvest could at least fill their stomachs," Preston said with a nostalgic look.

"Although there were a lot of trivial things to do at that time, we are all a family... The castle is very strong and safe, and the volunteers seem to be able to make Boston better... But I believe that in the future we will return to the castle and summon our past allies." Preston said with high morale.

Although he was sweating profusely when he said this, his clothes and hat were soaked, and his overall appearance looked a little embarrassed.

The rest of the team, like Old Popsicle's powered suit with built-in air conditioning and the Postman's powered suit, automatically adjusts the temperature. But Ariana doesn't sweat at all.

"Wow! You guys have some pretty good stamina..." As the only human without special equipment and no particularly impressive physical abilities, Preston wiped the sweat from his forehead. He had good stamina, just a little tired from the long hours of activity.

After leaving the Quincy Volunteer Camp, they had hardly stopped, heading north along the old main road, hoping to reach the town of Goodneighbor as quickly as possible.

We didn't encounter any desperate robbers along the way. Although most of the looters had their brains ruined by drugs like Jet or something, they wouldn't dare rush out and rob people just because they saw a power armor. That would definitely be a loss.

When passing through some small settlements, the people there originally planned to hide when they saw the power armor coming. However, when the sharp-eyed people inside saw the Volunteer Army logo painted on the chest of the power armor and Preston Garvey walking beside it, they let down their guard and took the initiative to come out and chat with them.

These small settlements that received help from the volunteers have not forgotten these kind-hearted volunteers. They also remember Preston, the volunteer soldier who wore a coat and a tattered cowboy hat.

To be honest, they only came out after seeing Preston, otherwise who would know where the person wearing the power armor came from.

It was the hottest time of the day, so Preston suggested they go to their small settlement to rest. Although the other three weren't very tired, they happily agreed to come in and sit there to get through the afternoon.

This small settlement was rebuilt directly from the park. Residents connected the houses closest to the park and sealed off the outer walls, allowing the entire settlement to enjoy the living environment of pre-war houses while also utilizing the park for some basic agricultural activities.

I don't know how this park is plumbed, but it still has running water and a working pump. Besides the most important cereal crops, the land within the park also grows a lot of watermelons. It seems that the quality of life in this settlement is gradually improving.

This settlement has a population of about forty people. Preston seems to have helped people clean up the crazy zombies wandering around here... These are all trivial matters. He has done similar things almost a hundred times, but he didn't expect that the people who came here would remember his face.

Although they were inviting people in to rest, they still had to collect the money. However, considering that they were volunteers, Preston could drink the clean water pumped out here freely. After all, food was still precious and could not be given away casually.

Preston understood this very well, so he simply took out his kettle and filled it with water. The clean water from the underground pump was icy cold, which made Preston, who was thirsty, feel much better.

He found a cool place to sit down and drink the underground water. Not far away, Old Popsicle was pointing at the map spread out by the postman, as if discussing the next journey.

In a sense, Preston was like a human stamp. Other settlements and scattered militias didn't recognize Old Popsicle, and they might not recognize the letter of introduction he left.

But they all knew Preston and knew him well, so if Preston had delivered the news, it would have been more credible.

Preston also understood this, so he agreed to go out with Old Popsicle. Otherwise, the general who was about to take office would have run into obstacles wherever he went.

"Preston," Ariana's voice sounded from the thinking little black head, "Here's some food for you."

The girl with light brown hair and beautiful blue eyes stuffed a lot of things into Preston's arms. Preston looked around... freshly picked watermelon, two bottles of Nuka-Cola, and even a bowl of fried chicken nuggets.

"Thank you! But I guess we're not that close?" Preston skillfully opened the Coke bottle, grabbed the fried chicken and started eating, taking a sip of Nuka-Cola from time to time. "But I still thank you very much! Mm! Delicious!"

"Just think of it as me trying to build a good relationship with you. Eat it all. I've paid for the bottle cap." Ariana seemed a little overwhelmed, but she concealed it well.

Lured by the taste of fried food and salt, Preston quickly devoured the bowl of fried chicken. He washed down the leftovers with the remaining Nuka-Cola, then cracked open the watermelon and began to eat it in big mouthfuls.

These watermelons chilled in cold water are incredibly delicious, perfect for relieving the greasiness of fried chicken. Although these watermelons aren't huge, nor are they particularly sweet or juicy, they're incredibly cool and juicy.

Preston finished his meal heartily and breathed a sigh of relief. This was far more luxurious than a lunch consisting of a glass of water and some marching rations.

"It's delicious. Thank you for your treat, Miss Aliana." Preston expressed his gratitude again.

"As long as you think it tastes good." Ariana smiled slightly.

It seems there are no black jokes in this world. Ariana complained silently in her heart, and could only laugh to herself. Although it felt a little unkind, but... you see, after all, the person involved didn't say anything.

Elsewhere, Old Popsicle and the postman determined and revised their next route. They rested for a few hours in this small settlement. Once the sun was no longer so strong, they resumed their journey north.

303 Old Popsicle's Journey (Part )

While Old Popsicle and the postman took a break, Preston was not idle either. He enthusiastically talked to the people in the settlement about the current situation of the Quincy Volunteers.

"...In short, you can understand that the volunteers are coming back. We are regrouping our troops in Quincy in the south and will be back soon. Until then, I hope you can support us as you have in the past."

"We know about the Quincy Volunteers in the south, and we know you are there. But my friend told me that there are many looters and thugs in other places under the banner of the Volunteers... Do you understand, Preston? We want to believe it, but we dare not believe it. We know you, but we don't know anyone else." Several people in charge of this settlement explained in a few words.

"You don't need to believe in anything specifically. The real volunteers are the volunteers who will enthusiastically help the people. Those who levy heavy taxes and try to suppress you with violence are never volunteers. The volunteers are an army that comes from the people. We came from where we came from, and there we will go back. We volunteers also trust the people." Preston explained and barely dispelled these people's doubts.

Although he didn't get a positive answer from the settlement, Preston was not in a hurry this time. He simply helped the people there with some work, then followed Old Popsicle's pace and continued to move north.

"Is this the mission you need to perform after you come out of the Volunteer Army?" The postman felt that Preston had followed him all the way during the day, and during his rest time he had to lobby the people in large and small settlements. It was really too tiring.

"This is what I need to do," Preston said proudly after returning to the team. "When you come here in the future, you won't run into obstacles everywhere you go. It's better to leave a good impression on the people here than to let them know nothing at all."

"...What an amazing obsession." Even the postman could only admire his willpower. If it were her, she would never do such a thing. The most she would do is spend two thousand bottle caps to find the hotel owner in New Vegas to help her boost her reputation.

I am the beacon of humanity that illuminates the world! I am the light of hope for the people of Mojave! People line up from coast to coast to shake my hand!

This is probably the effect of the message the Postman released to maintain his reputation. Although it's a bit ridiculous, this kind of publicity method is still quite popular in Mojave. After all, people who live in Mojave tend to have a sense of fun in life.

After leaving the small settlement, the group led by Old Popsicle made their way to the outskirts of Boston. From here, they had reached the most dangerous part of the area... or perhaps the most bustling part.

The land in the urban area is fragmented and complex, and this is one of the few places that has not been affected at all and is still keen on fighting and killing every day.

Old Popsicle only just now took out the heavy live ammunition weapon in his hand. This was an assault weapon similar to the Lewis machine gun. This oversized shape, recoil and weight could only be used by warriors wearing power armor.

Old Popsicle moved skillfully among the ruins. Although the place had become unrecognizable, relying on his past memories of the terrain, he could still quickly identify where he could go and where there might be traps and ambushes.

"Bang! Bang!" The old popsicle's power armor was hit by several cold bullets, and the bullets scratched part of the paint on the armor.

No matter how familiar Old Popsicle was with the terrain, the clanking noises of the action couldn't be masked in his power armor. Just by estimating Old Popsicle's footsteps, those looking to cause trouble could have already deployed their forces.

This was a power armor, and while it was very strong and tough, any smaller organization would want to take it if it could be recovered. Only the Volunteers were willing to provide their generals with power armor.

After countless gunshots, a noise was heard from behind a nearby wall. A moment later, a fuse was lit, and a tightly packed explosive pack was thrown out.

Behind Old Popsicle, there was a dull sound of pistol fire as the postman blasted the explosive pack apart. The fuse ignited the explosive, emitting only a dazzling flash and a loud noise, but it didn't hurt anyone at all; it was simply there to liven up the atmosphere.

"Kill them! Leave that chick behind! And I want that power armor!" Shouts echoed from both sides of the street. Those who could move around here were essentially ruthless thugs who fought for the sheer thrill of it.

"Let's go inside." Old Popsicle used his body to protect Preston, who was fighting back under him. As for the postman and Ariana, they completely ignored Old Popsicle's instructions. As long as they were sure that nothing would happen to him, they ran to deal with the enemy on their own.

"General? Don't we have to worry about them?" Preston quickly ran to a building nearby and loaded his weapon with new ammunition.

"No need. Aliana is the postman's old teammate. Don't worry about them." Old Popsicle picked up the weapon in his hand and fired two shots at the buildings and walls outside.

On the other side of the building where Old Popsicle was, Ariana punched the sealed iron door, smashing it open. As she did so, she immediately activated her stance shield.

The shield easily blocked the bullets fired at her and the explosion of the tripwire mine. The raiders inside who were shooting at Ariana let out waves of curses and exclamations.

She simply raised her weapon silently, and the electromagnetic weapon easily penetrated their crude armor, including one who was wearing only a power armor skeleton, with the outer plates welded together from scraps she had found.

Obviously, metals that you have hand-rolled or found are not very reliable.

Aliana simply finished off all the plunderers with her sword. She listened carefully and made sure there were no active footsteps around, then she sent a message to the postman.

"I've finished my side, how are you doing?" Ariana didn't want to waste time in a place like this, but the city was inherently dangerous, and rushing through was risky.

After all, rocket launchers or anti-material sniper rifles are still quite deadly.

Bang... Bang... Two vague gunshots were heard not far away.

[Solved. Ariana, how long will it take to get to Goodneighbor? Honestly, this place isn't that big, so why are there so many messy things... Is this a big city?] The postman complained.

"It's definitely not comparable to the sparsely populated Mojave. This place is quite densely populated. Yeah, it'll probably take another two days." Ariana compared the data the humanoids had gathered earlier and found a new route.

304 Old Popsicle's Journey (Part )

Goodneighbor, a town known for its freedom and equality, has begun to rebuild. Goodneighbor is now filled with gang members who are born for violence, desperate drug addicts and people who are avoiding foreign debts.

In addition, there are a large number of zombies forming the town guards, and a self-aware raider robot - this robot can even sell goods.

Few people dislike this place. After all, you can buy most of the legal and illegal things in Boston, or the hard-to-find things here. Even if you come here just to shop, you can still come here for a few rounds.

The journey here is not very safe, and if you come here as an official from Diamond City... you will most likely be shot.

The mayor of this small town is a strange ghoul named John Hancock who welcomes everyone to the town. He loves his townspeople equally, but there are only a few types of people that he hates.

There are guys who want to bully others and use violence in the town of Funlin, and there are idiots who come out from nowhere and want to take over the town and ask the town to pay taxes.

Anyone else is welcome.

Of course, there were also the synths from the academy. This was the default rule of the Boston Wasteland. Aside from the well-known synth detectives like Nick, the various white plastic synths that came in would be beaten to pieces on the spot, and their limbs would be directly divided up for materials.