ones saw Michael disappear, then reappear next to him, smiling at his work like he knew what he did.

"Do you understand what you just did? You used the gloves like a champ!"

"We have to test it a bit more. How did you feel?" Michael was thinking.

"Well, I think they are alright, but do you realize that this can't be used? The effect on the timeline may have consequences. That's why I'm keeping them." Jones smiled, feeling like flying, but he also realized the portal.

"If you will do one thing for me. If you're so decided on that, go to Australia. Get into that mountain. Kosciuszko holds more power and knowledge than the world combined." Michael was nodding, but then he said, "Okay, no problem. But if we do this, I will be going back. Tell me, were you here 10 years ago? Around the time of the Battle for Anchorage?" Michael asked Mr. Jones, stepping back.

"Well, I was there, actually, and it was no picnic. That's for sure. I lost most of my men in the first 3 months. But we pushed them back, me and the fellas. Back then, there were no TB51s, just 45s, and they were mostly patches of other scavenged PAs."

Michael smiled, but this time he did an almost splits-and-palm-on-the-ground move and vanished. Mr. Jones said, "Michael? Michael." He heard nothing but silence. Behind him, on the wall, were photos with the platoon and his crew. Michael appeared in the image with all 24 men and women lined up for the push back the next day.

Michael was holding the ground when the snow blizzard blew in. He was without any protection and forgot. He then lifted his arms up and swatted the ground, teleporting the TB51 into the field. It was 2066, around December 15th, when he was covered by the suit. It was 2 a.m.; no wonder it was cold. He didn't know where he was but thought he was at least near Flattop.

But when he walked, he saw some lights in the snow, but then footprints, and nobody was there.

"He knew this, and something told him that they were in stealth suits." As Michael ducked behind a tree, he had to get out of this forest. There was only one thing on the map: "It looked like a Nuka plant, but that can't be." As he approached the thick snow, the wind was nothing in this 51. "I wonder if anyone will notice," Michael wondered what the strange landmark was. But as he got closer, it was a plant alright, but an oil plant long abandoned. Atop the old pipes was someone with a sniper who saw him when a flare went up.

Michael Andrew Lee, Tech, was moving behind an old truck when the army rolled in. Thick footprints scattered around the old oil plant. When the VBs rolled in, it was an all-out bullet shower. From above, the Brotherhood in armor, ready to fight, dropped down, slamming the snow aside. 115 TB45s deployed fire on the unknown enemies invisible all around them.

Michael, who was able to spot them using his own augmented visor, found the upgrade easy. The adjustment was almost one minute, and he was able to mark all of them. As they appeared across the network, he saw them firing in the right direction now.

But it was too much. As they managed to push some back, the TB45s had flaws: they couldn't get out of the armor. Some were trapped, and Michael was running into the fire. His deflecting shielding and titanium plating made it hard to dent or even scratch his 51, but that was the least of his worries.

The back of one of the Steel Brothers was dented; he couldn't eject out. But then, out of nowhere, his chest plate was ripped off. He was able to scramble out before the FC stopped flashing, and he hid behind the truck, where others were also taking cover.

Michael was running across the old oil plant. The snow was getting heavy, but he didn't feel anything. He power-glided into the boiler, but it didn't budge. The sky was lit up with parachutes, and the ground team had already disposed of all 115 TB45s, but there was a secondary wave on the way.

Michael took charge and told the guy he saved to get to that mill and hold down fire while he found a way to push back the rest before things got out of control.