This thing on? Good.

Greetings, wastelanders. I speak to you today on behalf of our ragtag group of... What's the word, uh... "malcontents". Yes. I'm sure many of you have noticed some of our patrols exercising their duties around the west coast. Be advised that we do not seek to interfere with any of your local issues, be it social, political or otherwise. Our presence here is merely a fleeting reality that will subside shortly. That is all I am technically allowed to disclose at the moment. If you insist on questioning our identity, ideals and/or motivation, I am instructed to present to you some incredibly vague piece of contextual justification for our presence and all the pleasantries it implies, small as they might be.

Twenty years ago, a man arose from a bunker, buried deep underground in a land far away from here. This man was but a pawn, an extension of one's grasp. A means to an end, controlled by something much more sinister. This land was our home, and this man was, for the lack of a better word, a terrorist. That is not to say the man had done us wrong. It was not his actions that caused this divide between him, his masters and my people. What he served, the ideals he would... Broadcast were borne of the old world and, as such, had been set in motion centuries before he would ever walk the earth.

And his stride would incur actions. Actions incurred consequences. Before we knew it, this man had changed the landscape of our dear home drastically. Balances of power shifted, allegiances were formed and broken. Until one day, the man's stride crossed our own, and the consequences of his deeds finally caught up to him. Defeated and forced into submission, the man agreed to let go of his master, and was made to enact the will of my people.

Theoretically righteous and well intentioned as this will was, I and many others around me did not exactly agree with many of our methods and policies. When his role was fullfilled, and the abomination that his employer had become was destroyed, the man simply left, as suddenly as he came. The treasures he uncovered, left for my people to claim as spoils, celebrating the great battle and the golden age that was about to dawn upon our motherland.

But these old world treasures were powerful. Powerful enough to create a nation or destroy it completely. Our people extended their chokehold further into our home, snuffing out the nation that had already began to rise through the actions of that man. We militarized and dictated, not considering that old world brutalist governments might not hold all the answers.

Many of our brothers agreed with me on these issues. Though a minority, we were vocal, and our opinions were made known even in the spreading empire. In typical totalitarian fashion, our leaders brought us to their presence, gave us a bunch of guns and send us on our way. A scouting mission for them, maybe, but for us it meant grueling exile, and death.

Death came for many of us. We numbered in the hundreds before our arrival here. Very few of us saw the day when we reached American soil. And now that we're here, we intend to carry out our mission more... creatively. See for ourselves what happens, the developing societies, maybe go back home with proof that theirs is not the answer, but yours.

Therefore, fear not, general populace. If we see you, we'll most likely be on our way shortly after. If you cross us, you will be erased. Be nice to other people and we won't bother you. Not a difficult concept to grasp, really.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to dru heave for a moment. All this official script reading with little deviation has made me sick.