Andrew peered into the bleakness of the Pacific Ocean. His entire life, he'd been living on this oil rig. Older officers such as Martin and Lemieux often spoke of the mainland, a place beyond the ocean. According to them, the mainland was a trillion times bigger than the oil rig and filled with fantastical creatures. Scouting groups had been sent over there a few months ago and came back with incredible stories. However, the Enclave scouts didn't always come back. On the vast mainland, there were also dangers, such as ants, super mutants and raiders. Despite the incredible power armours they crafted, no Enclave soldier was invincible.
His only wish was to visit the mainland, but that solitary wish seemed bleaker than the entire ocean. Andrew was the only son of President Richardson. When the president retired, Andrew was to become the next president. Thus, his life was a cell, guarded with every precaution until the day that he rise to power. See, not all Enclave officers had the same motive. Like every other society in existence, there was corruption and animosity. A few officers didn't believe that presidency should be passed on through heritage. Some also disliked Richardson's plans for the future. For these reasons and more, Andrew was constantly at threat of being killed, even on the isolated Poseidon oil rig.
Currently, he was in the lower levels, being trained on power armour usage by Commander Martin. Although an incredibly useful ability, power armour training was taxing, both on the mind and the body. The sheer amount of physical stress involved in the training process occasionally tore soldiers limb from limb. But as the president's only heir, mastering the unlimited power of the Advanced Power Armour Mk. II was Andrew's only hope of survival. Martin, a very skilled fighter, wasn't the most interesting person. The lecture became a lullaby to Andrew's ears...
"Andy. Andy. Are you even awake anymore?"
Andrew tilted his head up. In his groggy field of vision, he saw his tutor shaking his shoulders back and forth. Suddenly, something else came into view. From behind Commander Martin, near the blackboard, the existence of a second figure became very clear to Andrew. The outline of an APA Mk. II, shrouded by the brilliance of a Stealth Boy. "Martin, beh-"
The sharp end of the knife protruded out from Martin's chest. Fresh blood splattered onto Martin's cheek. As the commander fell, his assailant's cloaking device was deactivated. "Join us or die", the killer whispered.
"Us..?" Andrew replied with uncertainty.
All around the room, dozens more APA Mk. II armours emerged from the darkness. "The rebel group..." Andrew whispered, almost in shock.
"Sir, is this operation safe?"
"Yes. Just be quiet and do your work. Little Andy here will be back on his feet soon enough... and stronger than ever."