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"As apart of the Intelligence section of the Brotherhood, I am usually not in the base for very long at any point."

Azure replied. He then heard Brutus' invitation.

"Thank you, but I'll stand."

"No. I haven't even seen them leave the hanger."

Azure said truthfully... even when he was a Knight, the mobile armor division didn't seem to be staffed, even though supposedly there were pilots.

"I'll be sure to."

Azure replied with a smile.

"I have a mission to be apart of. So I shall be leaving also."

Azure implied about the Junktown mission before he vanished back into the shadows he appeared from.

The shimmering flats of the wasteland have always intrigued him, he could never figure out why, something about the desolate land just drew him in. As it usually happened, Lucimorth had encountered a deserted camp, perhaps a little more than a camp, but no more than a bunch of metal shacks.
The sun filled his eyes with light, preventing a clear view of anything and causing severe squinting that only diminished the visibility. Sunglasses would have been handy right about now, but he forgot them, again. He approached the constructions, cautiously as always, never know what can jump at you and scratch your damn eyes out. That’d completely kill visibility. His trusty combat knife was engraved with initials and strange symbols; no one knew what any of it meant and no one ever will. The only thing they need to know is that it is sharp, sharp enough. Similar to the knife, his leather armour was marked as well, it seemed that Lucimorth liked to mark things.
The metal shacks were somewhat dark, blocked off windows did not let much light inside, instead cast shadows made the already eerie atmosphere even more so. His steps echoed inside the room with the sound of crackling sand and leaves. How did the leaves get inside? He couldn’t say. Ashes could be discerned around the corners, strangely enough. Shouldn’t the ashes be in the middle? Not much logic was usually present in these places. Then again, there was always logic, just sometimes it was beyond our knowledge.
There was nothing special, interesting or even useful in this shack, just a bunch of garbage. Lucimorth threw out a rugged looking piece of cloth the size of a formidable bed sheet. It obviously had seen the backside of more travellers then these things should. However, after a nuclear holocaust some things become scarce, bed sheets for example.
Lucimorth’s behind was promptly parked on top of the poorly made sleeping area and a book was opened. It did not matter how many times he read it, the book never ended. It was a diary from one of the deserted places he had visited. There were no names, no dates, nothing to indicate anything about time. After careful analysis he managed to conclude that the diary made too little sense to be a diary, which was not impressive at all. After several more reads, he realised that it was in fact a book of dreams and not really a diary. The last discovery was much more impressive for the average second grade level intelligence person. Only years later Lucimorth had finally discovered that it was indeed a diary as the dreams were chronological and had a pattern within them. Finally he managed to realise something worthwhile. Strangely enough, whoever wrote the diary made more of an impact on him than anyone else in his life. As far as he knew, the diary was written by a serial killer or maybe a fifteen year old child.

Yulia rushed to the top of the watch tower to find Brutus, but he was already walking away. She was about to call for him... instead, she watched as he disappeared into the distance. All she could hope for was that he would come back soon. Soon, and with whatever answers he was looking for.

Yulia looked down towards the initiate. Laughing as she answered, "Yes, I think it was him... but I wouldn't worry," her gaze went to the wastes again. "I think he'll find a way to upgrade his moral on his own." She decided it was time to go inside, and at this she walked down from the tower and to the medical bunker.

She was sitting outside when he returned, an issue of Cat's Paw present in her hands. She read it for the articles. Lypse turned the page to find an old article on energy weapons, one which educated her on various aspects of owning and carrying one, not that she'd ever need to know it. The laser rifle was the only one she'd ever have the interest in owning, as it was the only one with the range she needed as a sniper; and it would be a while before she would be allowed such a weapon, assuming she would ever reache that rank. She looked up and scanned the horizon for anything of interest when she spotted a site she had hardly expected to see.
Her Brother Brutus stood tall and proud, the flag of the Brotherhood of Steel attached to his back and flapping back and forth in the light winds of the wasteland. In one fluid motion, Lypse leapt from her seat on the watch tower's lower level and dropped the magazine she was reading. "Senior Knight Brutus has returned!" She shouted with all of the volume she could muster from the lungs within her small-framed torso. She grabbed her hunting rifle from off of the wall and swung it over her back, the strap running across her modestly sized chest. She opened the gate to the Brotherhood compound and strode out into the open. "Welcome back, Brother Brutus." She said to the great mutant.